


Survival of the Fittest Has Never Been a Bigger Lie

by staranon



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: 7 days to die au, Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, Angst, Jack-Centric, M/M, because that's the style of the times, just imagine their all wearing plaid in this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-21
Updated: 2017-05-17
Packaged: 2018-10-22 01:27:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 28,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10686942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/staranon/pseuds/staranon
Summary: It's easier to take care of one person than it is, say, six people. So if Jack is trying just to keep himself fed on a daily basis, then why does he keep inviting people to stay with him?





	1. The New Status Quo

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hawkflyer667](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hawkflyer667/gifts).



> Aaannnd I'm back. This time with my first ever zombie au fic. I don't really focus on the zombie aspect. I just go straight for the relationship aspect. So there's not much graphic-ness to the story itself.
> 
> Other than that my google search history is full of links on how to live off the grid. I am more prepared for the apocalypse now after having written this story. You're welcome.

When Jack was a young boy, he dreamed of owning a house out in the country with a two acre plot. He would have a dog, some cats, maybe some chickens, and  a garden. He was a realistic kid with realistic goals. His drawings would end up on the fridge.

Now he’s in his thirties. He has the small square house out in the country surrounded by grasses long and rustling during the dry summer winds. It has four rooms: a kitchen, a living room, a bedroom, and a spare room. Outside is a set of cellar doors that lead to a cool and dark place that is fortified and can be barricaded at the bottom of the stairs. In that cellar are shelves full of canned and persevered food, weathered and worn books for entertainment, two cots to sleep on, blankets, and a small, well vented stove he can cook with. The paint on the outside is faded and chipped. He thinks of going out to look for a can of paint and spruce it up a bit, make it a bit more colourful and lively.

_Ha. Lively._

As if something ever could be during a zombie apocalypse.

* * *

The area he lives in he specifically chose because it’s rural. The closest house to him is across a sizeable pond, a good three hour walk if he needed to make it. The virus struck the hardest in urban centres, like most virus’s occurring in history. The infection spread wide and far. Jack remembers when all there was on TV were emergency bulletins, telling people to move to a safe zone or remain inside, or news reports about how the cities fell, Marshall Law declared, of entire governments crumbling.

The virus induced in a human a high fever, capable of overriding basic cognition and impulse centres of the brain until the heat was so great that it damaged areas of the brain, effectively turning them into a zombie. It was easily transmitted through bodily fluids, so as long as you weren’t bit, you’d be fine.

Mortality rate was 100%. The zombies were attracted to loud noises and strong smells. They were fairly easy to kill, though, so it kind of evened out in the end. It’s easier to take them from behind. A solid blow to the head will knock them right out. It’s the virus induced brain that controls the body. Kill that and you’re safe once more.

But it’s safe here in the country, when it’s just you and your thoughts, endless sky, rolling hills, and the birds for company. When Jack focuses on the here and now, he can forget about the rest of the world and how broken it is. He can stand outside his house, close his eyes, and hear the breeze rustle through the dead and dry grasses of late summer. It’s just him. It’s just him and his house, the bees buzzing by his planter box, the herd of deer near a small forest, and the long-haired cat that keeps visiting his house late at night. This is his life. He’s content with it. Not happy but content.

And that’s all he’ll ever need.

* * *

The longest he’s ever gone without seeing another human being—a live one, that is—is roughly three months. The house across the pond is home to three women—Lindsay, Meg, and Griffon. They’re fiercely protective of each other. Jack had the misfortune of crossing them one night and nearly had his head caved in with a shovel. They were travel worn and weary with Griffon heading them, a true force of nature if Jack ever saw one. He had been scouting their house, not realizing it was already lived in. He fended himself off, proving he wasn’t bit, wasn’t infected. He apologized and offered up some of things he’d found while scavenging. They took it and let him go.

That was four years ago. Now, they’ve settled into an easy truce. He’ll go over every once in a while to make sure they’re all right, that they have enough food, that they’ll make it through the winter. They’ve warmed up to him, but he doesn’t go out of his way to see them. He has his space and they have theirs, so let’s just leave it at that.

The only other evidence of human contact is the air drops, a sign that somewhere humanity is still holding itself together, providing hope for the isolated by dropping supply crates every few months full of food stuffs, medical supplies, and other survival gear. He always splits the one’s he finds with Griffon and the girls, and they do the same with him. It’s common courtesy, and while it may be the apocalypse, that doesn’t mean he can’t still reach out every now and then. He’s still human. He’s still Jack. He doesn’t need to devolve into anarchy just for the sake of anarchy.

He doesn’t think he craves human contact. After living alone for so long, he’s adjusted to his relative isolation. He has his books, he has his country, and he has his cat, the stray who won’t leave and decided to call his home his own.

He calls the cat Sam, short for Samson. He looks like a Maine Coon without the size, longhaired with blacks and browns and grays colouring his fur. He’s loud when he needs attention and kneads his sharp claws into Jack’s chest whenever it’s just them on the bed. He’s not lonely when he has Sam. He could do without the headless mice left on his doorstep, but it’s not something he can’t handle. At least Sam can fend for himself.

During the day, Jack sets out with a rucksack filled with a few supplies and materials used to construct snares. It’s a half-hour walk to the forest near his house. It’s teeming with wildlife: rabbits, squirrels, deer, and other animals. The sudden decrease in human population has led to an explosion of animal populations. Plenty of food for him, so long as he knows how to catch it.

A year into the apocalypse and Jack knew  technology wouldn’t last. He went to the nearest library and took every survival manual and how-to guide he thought would be relevant. So far the books haven’t let him down. He wonders if those dooms-day preppers he saw on reality television are laughing at the world yet. This is what they prepared for every day of their lives, and now they’re the ones to save the human race. It’s funny in a way.

He has five snares set up to catch small game. He usually gets rabbits or squirrels. He doesn’t usually go for anything bigger unless winter is approaching and he needs to stock up. Winter where he lives isn’t bad. It gets a bit colder, but it doesn’t snow. There’s a dormancy period for the vegetation, but it’s not bad. Stormy and damp, but never cold. Usually.

Three of his snares have been set off, but nothing is there for him to take. He resets them and heads off to the next two. Rabbits. Two of them. He takes them both, hangs them from strings on his belt, resets the snares.

Foraging covers most of his dietary needs. He always makes sure to notice the shape of the leaves and the colours of the berries before eating them. He makes sure that he’s not digging up hemlock when he means to be looking for parsnip. He keeps on eye on the weather and the length of the sun to keep track of the seasons. There’s an old fruit farm near where Jack lives. It’s half a day’s walk, but it’s worth it to bring back a sack full of apples, pears, peaches, what-have-you. He’s tried to start up a garden, but either the soil around his house is bad or he’s just terrible at gardening, either way he forages, he hunts, he traps, and he cans. That’s how he gets by.

Sometimes one of the women will come down to see him, usually during canning season. Griffon with her true grit attitude, Lindsay and her humor, Meg and her refreshing optimism. They are the rays of sun in Jack’s otherwise dull life. They help him can, and he gives them some in return, as per usual.

That is Jack’s life. Simple, humble, rustic. Very bare bones if you ask him. Every once in a while a wandering zombie will drop by in the neighbourhood. If it’s only one and of a manageable size, Jack will take out his axe and creep up behind it.

_Don’t think of it as human._

WHACK!

_Don’t think of it as your mom._

WHACK!

_Don’t think of it as your friend._

WHACK!

_Don’t think of its family, its life, its dreams and aspirations._

WHACK!

_It’s a zombie, nothing more._

When the body is no longer moving, no longer twitching as he yanks his axe out of the remains of its skull, he piles some wood around it and burns it. He washes his axe and gloves and heads home where Sam will be waiting for him. He’ll pull the cat onto his lap—no matter what mood he’s in—and cuddle with him until the sick feeling in his bones disappears.

Seven years. Seven years of _this._ And each time he kills a zombie, he still feels the same way. Like he’s a murderer, that he’s losing a piece of his soul each time. It’s a necessity of this life, that he knows, but he doesn’t know if his feelings will change.

His fortified cellar is for when a horde ever happens to drift by. It happens at least once a year. A horde will drift down from which every urban centre is closest to his house. He doesn’t know why it happens. It just does. And when they do, he’ll take Sam and bunker down in his cellar, peering out from a cloth covered window and making as little noise as possible. They aren’t strong, thank god. They make half attempted swipes and bites, making a disturbing gurgling sound as they rush forward to something warm and lively. But hordes can easily overwhelm people, and that’s how people die.

He always worries when he’s locked into his cellar that the horde will go to the women across the pond, that one or all of them will be bitten, killed while he’s barricaded in the basement. He always goes over once the horde has moved on and is no longer a threat. Once he sees all three of them, he can move on.

At least they’re okay, they’re still safe, still breathing, still living. When he can sleep in his own bed upstairs does he relax and pretend that everything is normal.

This is his day to day life. Time isn’t a concept he concerns himself with anymore. He doesn’t know what month it is. He has a vague idea of what year it is. He doesn’t have a watch that works any longer. Time is an arbitrary concept created by humans for whatever reason—anxiety? for the bourgeois to manage how much the proletariats were wasting?. It doesn’t matter to him. As long as he keeps going and does the best that he can do, he’ll just have to be happy with it.

* * *

Sometimes when he’s out in the woods, chopping logs, setting snares, or what-have-you, he’ll hum and he’ll sing along to the songs he still remembers from his youth and teenage years. Genesis, the Rolling Stones, Queen. All the classics. That’s the one thing he’ll miss from pre-zombie times: music.

He _loved_ music, even had a gig working for a morning radio show for a while before everything went south rather spectacularly. His voice can carry loudly, a low timbre that you can feel in your bones. Sam sometimes trails after him, winding himself between Jack’s legs, or trotting beside him on the path.

One day, he returns home with a wagon full of wood. He plans on smoking his meat, which is a lengthy process involving lots of fire. Curing the meat and making it into a tough jerky makes it last longer. At least, that’s what his survival guides say, and they haven’t steered him wrong so far.

When he makes it back to the house, he stops humming. There’s a man walking towards him. He’s wearing a plaid shirt, torn and dirtied, jeans frayed at the leg cuffs. His hair and beard are dark and full, appearing to have been roughly cut with a knife at some point, unlike Jack’s which he keeps trimmed with a pair of scissors he meticulously sharpens and cares for—he refuses to let his beard grow wild and untamed; it’s his pride and joy.

The man looks like he’s half dead. Not zombie dead, but just exhausted. There are bruises under his eyes. His skin has a sickly pallor to it, and he’s moving unsteadily and shakily.

“Hello, there,” Jack says, because this man doesn’t seem like he’d be a threat. One shove against his shoulder and he’d topple right over. And he’s not carrying anything, so it’s not like Jack will get shot, so he decides to extend an olive branch.

The man whirls around and blinks, like it’s just _now_ he’s taken notice of Jack (and Sam). “Hello.”

“Are you, uh, lost?” Jack’s social skills are severally lacking these days. He doesn’t _do_ strangers.

“Buddy,” the man says, in the calmest tone anyone can carry. “I’m doing just fine.” And promptly collapses on the ground like a marionette doll without strings.

“Huh.”

Sam trots over to the man and prowls his body, sniffing him out. He’s usually pretty good at sniffing out an infected body—animals usually always have the one up on humans. He’s not shying away from the man, so he must be okay.

So Jack puts away his wood—the meat can wait a bit—and picks up the man under his arms and drags him into his house. He’s too light to be healthy. Malnourishment may be the cause of his sudden fainting spell.

He flips the man onto the ratty couch in his living room, making sure to prop up his feet so the blood stays closer to his organs and brain. He fills a glass with water and kneels down beside the man. “Hey,” he says, quietly and gives the man’s shoulder a gentle shake. “Hey, wake up. Come on.”

The man groans. It takes a while for him to come around fully.

“Are you a zombie?” he asks.

“I’m holding a glass of water,” Jack replies rather sardonically.

“Just checking.” He drinks the water quickly. “Got any more of this sweet stuff?”

“Yeah, hang on.”

 Two glasses later and the man seems to be in much better spirits.

“This your house?” he asks and twists around to look at the room.

“Uh, yeah.”

“Hm. Quaint. I like the curtains.”

Jack looks to the floral patterned curtains hanging from his windows. “They were here when I moved in.”

“Nice.” The man stretches out fully on the couch and goes loose with his arms stretched over his head. “You’re not the type of person who acts like a teddy bear only to kill me later, right?”

“If I say no, would you believe me?”

“Fair point. Got any food around here? I’m starved.”

Jack nods and goes back to the kitchen to pull out one of the many jars stuffed with food preserves. He passes it off to the man, who takes it gratefully and starts eating.

“Fuck, this is good. Thanks. I really appreciate it.”

“No problem. You look like you could use it.”

“A few days lost in the wilderness will do that to you.” The man is candid, easy going and relaxed, and so Jack relaxes around him. He looks harmless, like a scruffy kitten that wanders into your house and decides that this is where it will stay.

Jack sits down on the arm chair with the stuffing bursting through ripped stitches. “So what are you doing out here? Where’d you come from?”

“You may not believe me, but I’m one of those travelling merchants. You know, the apocalypse equivalent of your door-to-door girls’ scout.”

“ _Death of a Salesman_ type thing?” Jack asks.

The man chuckles. “Yeah, kind of. We go around trading for stuff, more personal than those air raids.”

Jack is familiar with those type of merchants. He’s come across a few when he was still on the road and looking for a place to live. If humans are anything, it’s resilient and stubborn, trying to maintain a façade of normalness even in the midst of a crisis. Merchants travel by wagon, often pulled by horses or sturdy cows—it’s for the fuel efficiency. It reminds Jack of old Wild West films, the travelling band of salesmen looking to advertise what people didn’t know they wanted. Most merchants have something of value with them: tools, canned food, antibiotics, precious iodine used to clean water, and so forth. They usually trade because some people have suddenly realized the untapped market potential of a post-apocalyptic America. Jack can usually trades some of his food stocks to get something more rare: medicinal supplies and sturdy boots. For the most part he ignores them because he has no need for what else they carry.

“Where’s the rest of your group?” Jack asks.

The man tears forcefully through a strip of dried meat. “A horde snuck up on us.” He’s gone a bit more serious this time, staring resolutely up at the ceiling above him. “It was . . . big. We split.”

“How long have you been on your own?”

“Three days.”

“Mm.”

He’s lost and alone then, surviving on his wits and probably staying on the move constantly. One rule for survival in a zombie filled world is don’t sleep when you’re alone. Jack has managed to reinforce the door to his house and secure bars over his windows over the years he’s lived here, so for the most part he’s safe on his own. Plus he has Sam, his ever watchful guardian.

But this man is alone. He doesn’t know where his caravan is of if they’ve even survived. He’s certainly not a threat to Jack otherwise he would’ve killed him by now. He just looks like he could use a peaceful night’s rest and some food to get him going again.

“You’re welcome to stay here for the time being,” Jack says. “Until you find your caravan or . . . not. It really doesn’t matter.”

“Well, I don’t want to be a burden on you.”

“You wouldn’t. I’ve got more than enough food to take care of the both of us.”

“How did someone as kind and charitable as you survive this long?’

“The beard really makes people think twice before they approach me.”

The man chuckles. “ _God_.” He extends a hand. “Geoff.”

Jack grips it in a quick shake. “Jack.”

 


	2. Roommate Wanted

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Better late than never, amiright?
> 
> Also, don't try to post a chapter with a cat on your chest. I mean, it's great when you think about it, but in actuality it's a real hazard to your hands when all they try to do is lick you.

When Jack wakes up the next morning, he’s surprised to find a man on his couch.

_Oh. Right._

He’s been alone for so long that he completely forgot about Geoff until now, sleep still clouding over his mind. Samson _mrrps_ at him and moves to the door. Jack lets him out and turns back to the matter at hand: Geoff. What are they going to do here?

He’s a stranded merchant in a zombie apocalypse. He’s lucky he stumbled upon Jack’s house when he did, otherwise he wouldn’t have lived for much longer. Jack is willing to let Geoff stay for as long as he wants. Hell, he can stay forever. Jack is more than enough able to feed the both of them. And maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to have someone around. As much as he loves Sam and the women across the pond, he needs someone else, someone he can connect to and toss around some witty banter.

He finds he does miss the social life of a pre-zombie infested America. Going to the pub, theatre night with friends, online gaming tournaments. He used to live in a fairly populous city at the beginning of all this. He enjoyed his job. He had a great network of friends. And then the first zombie case appeared and then it all snowballed after that. He doesn’t know how it all began. There were theories floating around as the government tried to control the situation. One was a contaminated flu vaccine. It made a lot of sense as there was really no ground zero of where the affection occurred. It just cropped up everywhere, overwhelming emergency services as they tried to separate the vaccinated from the unvaccinated. Jack had eventually been chased out of the city when emergency services fell apart and the city was declared a dead zone. Everyone cleared was allowed to leave, but anyone showing the slightest symptom of infection was enclosed behind a tall chain link fence hastily constructed around the city limits.

He remembers standing in line waiting to be cleared with some of his friends, being checked over by an army personnel dressed in full body gear. He passed. Some of his friends didn’t. He stood at the fence, looking back at them as they were separated and taken away. At that moment they were still his friends, still looked like his friends. And he couldn’t believe that soon they wouldn’t be recognizable.

He was bundled up with the remainder of his friends in a truck and taken to the nearest safe zone. That was the first time he lost people he was close to.

Geoff sleeps late into the morning while Jack gets a start on smoking his meat. It’s a lengthy process that requires a lot of wood and a lot of patience. He has a hut outside built especially for this process where strips of meat can hang over a bed of burning wood. There they will remain for nearly a full day until they’re turned into dry strips of jerky which Jack will pack away into jars. He’ll feed the fire to keep it going and maintain the temperature. He always worries that the smell and the smoke will attract zombies. So far he’s been lucky, but he knows in this zombie filled world that anything can happen.

Geoff wanders out of the house a few hours into the smoking process. Jack is splitting the logs he collected yesterday, stacking the logs against the side of his smoke hut in an even line. It’s methodical work but especially tiring. He works up quite a sweat while doing it and thinks he’ll need to collect water from the lake again to wash his clothes.

He takes a break in his work and pulls off his gloves. The palms are wearing out. He’ll have to look for another pair soon. Maybe Griffon has one he can trade for.

Geoff is leaning against the side of the house. He still looks exhausted and slightly downturned.

“Good morning,” Jack says, leaving his gloves to rest on the stack of wood.

“Yeah,” Geoff says. He nods his head towards the smoke hut. “What’s going on?”

“Smoking meat.”

“Smells delicious.”

He’s trying to act normal, Jack realizes. But Jack knows, can see it in his eyes, that he’s worried. His mind is on the situation of his merchant caravan and if they survived. Jack doesn’t know what he can offer to him, but he can certainly try to keep his mind off of things.

“Hey, I’m planning on heading over to Griffon’s to trade off on some things. You’re welcome to join me.”

Geoff nudges his foot into the ground. “Who’s Griffon?”

“She’s the one who lives across the lake with two other women.” Jack points across the lake. Geoff looks out and shrugs.

“Sure, I guess.” He brings a hand to the back of his neck and rubs it quite uncomfortably.

“Let me just get my stuff together and we’ll head out. It takes a couple hours to walk there.”

“Sure thing.”

Jack fills a bag with some food stuffs. Feeding three people is always harder than one, so Jack always brings with him food.

They set off to the pack down by the lake. Sam makes an appearance and trots beside them with his tail up high. Geoff has his hands tucked into his pockets, shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows exposing a multitude of tattoos.

“How was your sleep?” Jack asks, because he doesn’t know what else to say and it’s a long trek to Griffon’s—even longer in complete silence.

“It was good,” Geoff says, looking at the lake and turning in a slow circle on the path as they continue forward. “Thanks for taking me in, by the way.”

“Listen, it’s no problem. Stay for as long as you like.”

The three hour walk goes by in relative silence. Geoff seems stuck in his thoughts, and Jack decides to leave him be. He doesn’t know what to say or do at this time. Trying to assure someone of their loved one’s well-being during a zombie apocalypse is a little useless at this point. You just don’t know. You just give up the hope and move on. There’s no point in waiting for things to turn around.

Geoff attempts to break out of his melancholy by asking about Jack, about Griffon, commenting on the lake, and getting tripped up by Sam. Jack tries to answer as many questions as he can, keeping the conversation alive and drawing Geoff out of his troubled thoughts.

He’s vaguely reminded of a time past when he used to travel with a friend. When it was just the two of them, depending upon each other, watching over each other as they slept. He sighs. It’s never a good thing to reminisce.

“Oh, hey look!” Geoff says. “A deer!”

Jack looks to where Geoff is pointing and, yes, there is a deer. Very astute, Geoff.

But that seems to be an intrinsic part to Geoff’s character. He’ll start off by saying something and then break off to point out something very obvious before saying, “Anyways. Where was I?”

It’s very easy to get into a conversation with Geoff, Jack finds. They had similar pre-zombie interests. If they had met, Jack imagines they could’ve been fast friends. The puns and jokes roll easily between them, passing them off like they’ve known each other for years. By the time they get to Griffon’s, both are smiling.

Griffon welcomes Jack warmly with a firm hug and pat on the back. Then she sees Geoff and takes on a more wary stance. “Who’s the lumberjack?” she asks.

“That’s Geoff,” Jack says. “He showed up yesterday. He’s a merchant who lost his caravan, so he’s staying with me for a while.”

“Caravan?” she says.

Jack nods. “Yeah. Have you seen anyone lately?”

She shakes her head. “It’s been quiet as usual.” She looks out to Geoff who’s standing awkwardly a few paces back. “You and I gonna have problems, lumberjack?”

“No, ma’am,” Geoff says, putting on his best school boy act.

“All right then. Come on in, boys.”

Griffon’s house is easily twice the size of Jack’s. It’s a log cabin, and Jack has suspected it used to be a private getaway for someone with money. It was finely furnished and decorated. The glass sliding door had been boarded up when Griffon moved in. The doorway to the basement had been fully boarded up while Griffon smashed her way through the floor and created a trap door system hidden underneath a rug in the living room. Jack is never really worried for her or the women under her protection. They’re in good hands here.

“Where are Lindsay and Meg?”

“Hunting,” Griffon says, moving to the kitchen to fill some glasses with water. “There’s a herd of deer nearby, so they want to try and bring down a buck before they head off.”

Jack takes both glasses of water and hands one off to Geoff. Geoff takes it and collapses in one of the chairs in the living room. He finds the lever and reclines back. “You’ve got a sweet house, Griffon. _Much_ classier than Jack’s.”

“I don’t know. I think there’s a certain rustic charm to Jack’s place.”

“His curtains _are plaid._ ”

“Hipster charm then?” Griffon nudges Jack’s shoulder and gives him a wink.

Wait. Is he missing out on something here?

Griffon turns her attention to Jack’s bag. “What do you have for me today?”

“Just the regular,” Jack says and widens his stance to Sam can wind his way between his legs. “Are you running low on anything? I can bring you more.”

“No, we’re fine for now. Need anything?”

“A good pair of gloves. And if you have any spare clothes that could fit Geoff.”

“I’m a medium,” Geoff says from the recliner with his eyes closed.

“I might have something. Hang on.”

Jack moves to sit down in the living room with Geoff. Sam jumps up onto his lap and purrs loudly for attention.

“This house is sweet,” Geoff says. “Why didn’t you move here when you dropped into the neighbourhood?”

“Too big. It was only me, so I chose that one.”

“Mm.”

Sam pads his way across Jack’s lap, body stretching towards his scratching fingers.

“How are you doing?” Jack asks.

Geoff sighs. “Better.” He opens his eyes and looks up at the ceiling. “I just wish I knew what happened to them, you know? Put my mind at ease or something.” He rubs his eyes wearily. The movement causes Sam to jump to the armrest of the recliner and stretch over Geoff’s lap. “But what can you do, you know? It’s the zombie fucking apocalypse.”

Jack stretches his arm out onto the armrest of the couch he’s seated upon. He wants to assure Geoff in some way. Pat his shoulder, give him some comforting words. But he doesn’t know if either is right for the situation. So he lets Sam wander over him and knead his chest. Animal therapy is a wonderful thing.

Griffon returns with a few sets of clothing and a sturdy pair of working gloves for Jack. “These should do the trick,” she says. “A few pairs of pants and a lot more flannel.”

“Thank you,” Jack says, standing and taking the stack from her. He looks at the shirts. “More plaid?”

She shrugs. “It’s the style of the times.”

* * *

Geoff becomes more involved in Jack’s life as the week goes on. He seems to be fitting in well, extending a helping hand to Jack in his daily duties of the upkeep of his house. He gets a bit queasy whenever Jack has to clean his kills.

“I’m more a fish man,” he says, looking a bit pale and disappearing into the house while Jack gets into the dirty work.

Jack knows how it looks. When he first had to clean his own kill, it didn’t go well. The blood was everywhere, making his hands slip and tearing the meat into thin jagged strips. His methods have gotten better since then, but it never really got any easier to kill such harmless creatures.

Geoff makes himself useful by washing clothes and fetching more water when they need it. He helps forage for food, holding a surprising amount of knowledge on which plants are edible, so there’s no need to hover over his shoulder and double check on what he’s brought home.

It’s nice living with someone again. Geoff moves from his bed on the couch to sharing Jack’s room. It’s better for his back that way, and Jack doesn’t mind sharing. Even if Geoff sleeps haphazardly, spreading out fully on the bed with his limbs akimbo. Jack finds it endearing.

He appreciates Geoff for his quirks and oddities, his laugh, and how nimble his fingers can be when constructing a makeshift fishing pole out of the stuff in Jack’s spare room. Sometimes he’ll start humming a tune and Jack will catch on before they both belt out a line, horribly off tune.

They settle into an easy routine for three weeks, going into the woods to check the snares, walking down to the lake so Jack can watch Geoff flounder in the water for a few hours. It’s comfortable, and Jack appreciates having someone live with him again. He’s missed this. Being this close to someone. He can only hope that Geoff feels the same way.

* * *

They’re walking side by side in the woods, heading back home as it’s started to rain and umbrellas aren’t something high up on Jack’s priority list.

They’ve merged onto the main path of the woods, overgrown now due to lack of human foot traffic, but still visible. They avoid the growing puddles and soft patches of mud, Geoff scrabbling to hold onto Jack’s shoulder whenever he trips.

Jack hears the snort of an animal, sounding more like a horse than a deer. He turns and spots it, a large draft animal and frowns. What’s a horse doing here?

He walks a bit further and spots a tarp, a second horse, and a person. “What the—”

Geoff springs into action and dashes past him. “Oh my god, Burnie! Gus!”

There are two people by the horses. Jack moves closer and spots a wagon as well. Ah, merchants then. Geoff’s friends.

“Geoff!” one of the men says.

Geoff fully throws himself at one of them, arms open wide and they clash together in a fierce hug. The reunion is tender, but Jack feels left out, standing off to the side.

“We thought you got got!” one of the men says.

“I thought _you_ were goners!” Geoff replies. “Oh, it’s so good to see you guys!” He goes full out and plants a loud kiss on the sides of both their heads. He’s pushed off, and they laugh. Geoff turns to Jack and seems to suddenly remember him. “Right, this is Jack. I’ve been staying with him for a while.”

Jack raises a hand. “Hi.”

“Hey, nice to meet you. I’m Burnie and this is Gus.” Burnie, bearded and with curly hair, points to a man wearing glasses, Gus.

“Nice to meet you as well. I assume you guys are merchants with Geoff?”

“Sure are. We got separated a few weeks ago, and we’ve been looking for him ever since.”

“Thanks for taking care of him,” Gus says. “We were worried for a while that he, you know, got bit.”

Geoff turns to both Burnie and Gus again. “Oh my god. It’s so good to see you guys again. You know what, maybe you can come stay with us for the night. It’s better than staying out in the rain. What do you say, Jack?”

Jack can’t begrudge Geoff in his reunion so he agrees. The merchants gather their stuff and follow Jack back to his house. For some reason, he feels more hollow than relieved that Geoff found his friends.

The evening is spent on catching up over the time they’ve been separated. Gus and Burnie tell their side of how they got away and spent some time on foot trying to catch the horses again before moving on to find Geoff. Geoff tells them how he stumbled around for a few days before he found Jack. At this point in the story, Geoff slaps Jack on the shoulder and rubs it fondly.

“Would’ve been dead without this guy,” he says. “Pulled me in the house and lets me crash on his couch. All rent free by the way.”

“Pretty sweet,” Burnie says.

“Well, now that we’ve found you, do you want to come with us to the settlement?” Gus asks. “It’s about a day’s ride from here. We were going to stop in and stock up, but it seems like you’ve settled down.”

Geoff nods. “I’ll think about it.”

Jack’s heart sinks a bit, but Sam claws at his pant leg for attention, pulling him out of his funk while he meows loudly.

* * *

Burnie and Gus stay for the night. They both have plans to move on, continue as merchants while they still can. They give Jack some things free of charge out of gratitude, and Jack graciously accepts it all. Might as well cash in on the deal.

Jack and Geoff settle down in bed together. Jack has his arms crossed over his chest, looking at the ceiling.

“You’re thinking too hard,” Geoff matters. “What’s up?”

“Nothing,” Jack says.

“Come on.” He pokes Jack in the arm. “What is it?”

Jack sighs. “Will you be leaving?”

“I don’t know. I’ve grown kind of comfortable here. Burnie and Gus want to continue on, but it seems like they’ll just be staying in the area. There’s a lot of people out in this area who need supplies, so it’s not like they’re leaving forever. I’m just glad they’re safe.”

“Mm.”

“And besides. I like what we have here.”

Jack can hear the beat of his heart in his bones. “So, you’ll stay?”

“ _Of course_ I’ll stay. I like what we have here. You actually know the lyrics to what I’m singing.”

“Don’t you mean your wailing?”

Geoff chuckles and shoves him underneath the blankets. Jack relaxes and sleeps easily that night.

* * *

They say goodbye to both Burnie and Gus the next morning. They promise to come back and visit in a few weeks. It’s a heart felt goodbye, and Geoff kicks at the grass as the wagon pulls away. Jack lays a hand on his shoulder.

“You going to be okay?” he asks. “You could run after them.”

Geoff shakes his head. “Nah. I’m fine. I’ve had enough with the merchant life. Besides, I missed sleeping on an actual mattress.”

“Oh, so _that’s_ why you’re with me. For a moment I though you actually liked me.”

“Had you going there for a while, didn’t I?”

“Totally.”

Geoff laughs and shuffles back over to him. “Come on. We’re burning daylight.”

* * *

It’s a hot and humid day, the sun burning brightly above them. The wind picks up as they move into the forest to collect wood. Jack can feel it in the wind that there’ll be a storm tonight, and he thinks it’ll be a bad one. Storms are bad in the high summer, rolling in loud and ferociously. As long as they work fast, they should be home in time before it hits. He can see the formations of it on the horizon, so he’s not too worried.

They’re loading up the wagon on the path, carrying larger pieces of wood from a fallen tree that they’ve been hacking away at for a few days now. It’s a wagon load at a time. Jack doesn’t want Geoff to overextend himself.

“Hey, I’ve got to piss for a second,” Geoff says. “Be right back.”

“Don’t fall in,” Jack calls out.

 _“Ha ha._ ” Is the sardonic reply.

God, he does miss indoor plumbing.

A few minutes later, Jack hears Geoff scream. He tears off into the woods with his ax. He stumbles upon a small campsite with a single tent. Geoff is sprawled on the ground. A kid stands over him, boot planted firmly on his chest to keep him pinned down. Jack immediately drops the ax to deescalate the situation when the kid trains his gun on him.

“ _Back the fuck up before I blow your fucking head off_!” the kid yells.

Jack raises his hands up immediately and takes two steps back. “Whoa. Easy now. We don’t want any trouble.” He keeps his voice calm and steady and looks briefly at Geoff. He’s keeping still. Good. “Just put the gun down, and we’ll leave, okay?” He sees another kid huddled by the tent. He looks thin, dangerously so, and something tugs in Jack’s heart.

“We’re not here to hurt you, okay?” He chances a step forward. The kid with the gun stares him down but says nothing. “How long have you guys been out here?” He gets no response, but both sets of eyes are trained on him. “There’s a storm on the way. It’ll hit tonight. You are welcome to come back to our place to stay the night. Okay? I’m not trying to pull a fast one on you guys.”

There’s a moment of silence before the one by the tent says, “Michael,” in a quiet, fearful tone.

“Shut up!” Michael, the gun wielding one, mutters. He keeps his gun trained on Jack before he growls and pulls back, lifting his foot off of Geoff’s chest. He lowers his gun. Jack sighs and lowers his hands. “Fine. But one wrong move from either of you and you’re both dead!” He storms off back to the tent and the two of them begin to tear it down.

Jack moves to Geoff’s side and pulls him to his feet. He holds him by both shoulders and looks him up and down. “You all right?”

Geoff nods and brushes himself off. “Yeah, I’m fine. Thought I was gonna be a goner though.” He huffs and heads back to the trail.

On the way back to Jack’s house, they exchange names: Jack and Geoff, Michael and Gavin. Michael seems to be the grim faced leader of their duo. Gavin is half hidden behind him, coat hood pulled over his head, eyeing both Jack and Geoff warily. None try to ask questions or start up conversation. The mood is still yet grim.

They make it into the house while the clouds in the west loom ominously, the thunderheads billowing up large and dark. It’ll be a bad storm. Jack will probably bring out the boards to save the windows just in case it hails. He clears some space in the spare room for Michael and Gavin to sleep in for the night and keep their stuff in. Jack tells them both that he has food prepared in the kitchen if they’re hungry. He closes the door so that they have they can have their privacy.

Jack goes to Geoff in the living room. He touches him on the shoulder. “Hey. You want to pull out the storm shutters from the cellar? I think it’s going to be a bad one tonight.”

Geoff stands. “Sure thing. Are you sure about those two? I mean, that one kid seemed pretty trigger happy.”

“They’ll be fine. They just need a safe place to sleep for the night.”

“If you say so.”

Once the house is secured and Samson makes his return, Jack lights some of his few remaining candles and they settle in for a long stormy night. The two kids are still in their room. Jack can hear them talking quietly, but doesn’t try to listen in. He knows how to respect boundaries even in this small house.

The soggy night ahead means they won’t be grilling anything, so it’s all cold preservers for the night. Jack sets out a few jars on the kitchen table, taking a few to the living for him and Geoff. He knocks on the spare room door.

“There’s food on the table if you need anything,” he says and retreats.

It’s like dealing with a spooked animal: give them the space to feel safe and they’ll eventually come to you. Michael is the one to make the first move. Gavin, the skinnier one, stays by the door as Michael takes the food and immediately retreats. Fair enough.

The storm closes in when it’s dark. Jack has lived through rough storms all his life, so this is no big deal to him. He sets out a candle in the bedroom, and he and Geoff settle down for the night. Geoff is curled towards him, running his fingers through his hair. He looks deep in thought.

“I don’t have a good feeling about those kids,” he says quietly.

“It’ll be fine, Geoff.”

“No, I mean I’m not worried about them killing us. It’s just . . . neither looked good. They just looked really . . . beaten down is all.”

“Mm.”

There’s a loud crack of thunder. Jack gets out of bed. “I’ll be back,” he says. “I’m just going to check on them.”

He takes a few of his emergency candles and a dwindling pack of matches. He makes a note to ask Burnie if he has anything next time he’s in town. He knocks on the spare door. Once he’s allowed in, he opens it to find both Michael and Gavin huddled in the corner of the room. Gavin looks terrified, flinching and burrowing further into Michael’s arms whenever the thunder snaps.

“Thought you guys could use some light.” Jack lights two candles and sets the spares down next to them. “Geoff and I will be in the other room if you need us.” He turns away to go back to his own room.

“Thanks,” Michael says gruffly.

Jack turns and smiles. “Don’t mention it.”

He returns to Geoff and they gravitate towards each other. “I think those kids are going to be all right.”


	3. When Life Gives You Lemons...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so yeah this was supposed to be up yesterday but i fell ill. also i'm going to england for 6 weeks as of today. i'll update while i'm there, but life is busy.
> 
> also, i didn't proofread this chapter
> 
> :)))))

The kids are not all right. Not at first. While Jack is able to sleep just fine that night with the raging storm outside, he’s certain it keeps them awake for a long time. The next morning, it’s quiet and calm, the sun breaking through the few remaining clouds of the storm system off in the east. Samson is meowing and stomping all over Jack and Geoff, demanding attention and to be let out. Geoff’s patience wears out first, groaning and scooping up the cat to take him outside. Jack, meanwhile, takes his time in waking up.

He thinks about the newcomers and what that means for him and Geoff. Once again, Jack is thinking of extending his ever helpful hand. Michael and Gavin look young, mid-twenties at the most, which means they were kids when this all started.

_Jesus._

Maybe they could use a place to stay and rest for a while and not have to worry about what’s coming after them. He wonders why they were out here in the first place. It isn’t often that people walk by in Jack’s area, except for merchants. By now most people have either settled down in seclusion like Jack or taken up residence in safe zone. Not many people camp out in the wilderness anymore, at least not if they’re alone.

He wonders where they came from and where they’re headed. The type of fierce protection Michael showed yesterday suggests he and Gavin have been together for a long time. And the jumpy way Michael took Geoff down also seems like they left a terrible situation behind. They could probably use a kindly face.

Jack goes to the kitchen and pulls out some food for breakfast. He’ll have to go on an extensive hunt now that there are four people in the house to feed. He sits down with Geoff, who is leaned back against the wall, eyes closed, with a leg tucked up against his chest.

“Fuck, I miss coffee,” he says.

Jack nods and slides one of the preserve jars across the table to him. “I just miss having a warm drink, you know?”

“I could go for anything right now,” Geoff says, eyes opening a tad as his hand fumbles around for the jar. “I could even fucking go for hot water.”

“Well, maybe next time your merchant friends stop over we can see if they have anything.”

Geoff nods. “That would be awesome. Hey, what are we, uh, going to do about the new guys?”

“Well, they can stay for as long as they want. We’ll just have to get a lot more food.”

“You seriously going to let these kids stay here?”

Jack drinks some water. “I let you stay, didn’t I?”

Geoff narrows his eyes and sits back. “Fair enough.”

* * *

The kids sleep in late and don’t come out of the room until the sun is high in the sky. In the meantime, Jack and Geoff have headed out to the woods to check on the snares and bring back what’s been caught. Jack sets out on cleaning the kills while Geoff hides in the house as he does it. He likes the final product but not the process. Jack is fine with that. He can, however, dig through the wood pile to pull out the driest pieces to get the smokehouse going to dry the meat.

One of the boys comes out just as they finish up. It’s Gavin, reaching down and cooing at Samson as the cat tries to avoid his grabbing hands.

“Good morning,” Jack says. Gavin keeps his eyes on the cat. “Sleep well?”

Gavin gives a shaky nod. “All right, I guess. Thanks for, um, letting us stay again.”

“It’s no problem. You find the food okay?”

Gavin nods and rubs the back of his neck uncomfortably. He raises his gaze and he’s looking directly at Jack. Not really _at_ Jack but at something _on_ Jack. He looks like he wants to ask something, but can’t get the words out.

“Is there something you need?”

“Umm.” He drops his gaze before pointing at Jack again. “Your, um, glasses.”

Jack raises a hand to touch the frames of his glasses. “What about them?”

“It’s just.” He takes a step away from the house and comes closer to Jack to speak more quietly. “Michael won’t say anything because he doesn’t trust people all that easily and he doesn’t want stranger to know this about him ’cause he thinks it’s a weakness, but he can’t see all that well. And I know it’s bugging him a lot. He used to have a pair, but it broke a long time ago. Absolutely shattered. Lost cause. And I’m just wondering if . . .”

Jack finishes for him. “You’re wondering if I can help him out with that.”

Gavin gives a little nod. “Yeah.”

Jack gives him a soft grin and nods. “I think I can help you with that.” He turns back to Geoff at the smokehouse. “You got this?”

Geoff gives him a thumbs up. “Sure thing.”

* * *

In the modern zombie filled world, some items are often neglected in favour of the more urgent ones: food, water, and medical supplies. Everything else is rather glossed over. The one place people _rarely_ visit is the optometrist’s office. And considering Jack’s terrible eyesight, he knew at once that he’d have to hoard glasses supplies if he wanted to live a somewhat stable life.

He has a plastic container full of supplies he can go to when he needs to repair his glasses. He has frames and lenses that are not his prescription—in the panic he grabbed whatever he could. But hopefully there’s something here that Michael can work with.

He takes the container to the kitchen and sets it down on the table. Michael is hovering around Gavin in the living room as Gavin, again, attempts to chase after Sam, who has hidden himself under the couch.

“I hear you need some glasses,” Jack announces, looking at Michael. Michael whirls around, eyes squinted, jaw set. He looks pointedly at Gavin, who continues to focus all his attention on the cat. “I’ve got a lot in here that you can look through and try on. Hopefully I got a prescription that works for you.”

Jack steps back from the table. Only then does Michael come forward. He still glares at Jack, making sure he keeps his distance before he starts rummaging through the many pairs of glasses Jack has meticulously hoarded over the years. He tries on a few pairs, tosses them back, takes out another. He tries on one last pair, slowly turning his back on Jack to look around the room.

_Ding! Ding! Ding! We have a winner!_

Michael turns his body to the side, looks at Jack from the corner of his eye and says, “Thanks,” very quietly.

Jack smiles and nods and packs up the container. “If they need fixing, just come to me.”

Michael doesn’t appear to pay attention to him, but Jack considers this step to be one in the right direction.

* * *

 

Because it’s been a nice clear day, Geoff wants to fish for dinner. Jack agrees, saying that he needs to bring up more water and purify it if Michael and Gavin plan on staying for the night.

“You mean, we can stay?” Gavin says, eyes impossibly wide, looking surprised and so very innocent and young.

“Of course you can stay,” Jack says as he loads his water jugs onto the wagon to ferry down to the lake. “You guys can stay as long as you’d like.”

“Where were you guys headed anyways?” Geoff asks.

“Somewhere warm,” Michael says, arms crossed but one hand consciously continues to rise up periodically to touch his glasses. “Fucking got tired of the snow up north.”

“Well, here’s a good place to start. Just gets rainy as fuck in the winter. But it’s not that bad.”

Jack and Geoff begin to head off down the lake. Gavin and Michael trail slowly behind them with Sam taking up the back. It takes ten minutes to walk down the slope to the lake. Jack first fills the water jugs and wheels them back up to the house. He starts a fire in the fit pit constructed out of a large tire rim sunken into ground. He sets a grate over top of the fire and sets down two pans. With each he fills with water and pulls out a aluminum folding chair to settle down for the long and boring process of boiling the water to purify it. It’s one of his most arduous tasks, completed a handful of times a week. He boils down the water and sets it into his purified water jug.

From where he’s sat, he can hear Geoff trying to teach Gavin and Michael how to fish. He can see them all, Geoff standing in the water half-way up to his knees with his pants rolled up. Michael and Gavin are on the bank, but Gavin looks like he wants to go in; however, Michael keeps touching him on the arm, on the shoulder. _Stay out. Stay safe. Stay where I can see you._

Once the painful process of purifying water is done, Jack moves back down to the lakeside and plants himself down on the bank to watch the ensuing madness of Geoff’s fishing lessons.

“What you got to do is just gently cast the lure over the water and drag it back slowly,” Geoff says, demonstrating the move with his improvised fishing poles. Sam sits at the edge of the water, tail flicking from side to side.

Gavin is eager to go in, kicking off worn shoes and holey socks to join Geoff in the water. Michael seems less likely to pull him back into the shore, hand trailing gently over Gavin’s arm as he goes in. Maybe he’s finally see Jack and Geoff as potential allies instead of enemies. He still keeps his arms crossed, pacing every once in a while on the shore while Gavin gets comfortable in the water.

The fishing is an absolute mess. Geoff isn’t that great of teacher, and Gavin is impatient, always pulling on the line too soon, allowing the fish to slip off the hook. Under Geoff’s gentle approach, he eventually manages to get a hold of the technique and manages to bring a fish in. Small and dark, it’s not something Geoff would bring home. But before they can release it, the fish wriggles on the hook, spooking Gavin so he jerks back. The fishing pole goes with him. The fish lands with a _plop_ on the bank and Sam pounces, biting down on fish and tugging it off the line. He runs past Jack at Gavin’s cry of ‘hey!’ Jack chuckles.

“Michael, the cat stole my fish!” Gavin says, turning to look at Michael on the shore. Michael offers a rare, small smile.

“Better watch what you’re doing then,” Michael says.

“It was a good first effort, buddy,” Geoff says and slaps his hand down on Gavin’s shoulder.

Two very different reactions happen at this moment. The first is Gavin’s—a wide and innocent smile forming on his face, looking at Geoff like he’s one of the most important people he’s ever known. And then there’s Michael, bristling like a cat, hackles raised and gone tense. But then he relaxes after a moment when he’s perceived there’s no threat.

It’s interesting, watching them both. Jack recognizes that Michael cares deeply for Gavin. He must see himself as his sole protector, the one thing that stands between Gavin and certain death. Jack gets it. He does. Travelling with other people in a wasteland can form some strong bonds. Jack has experience it. He has experienced the loss and the pain that comes from seeing one of your closest friends die or turn into something monstrous. Accidents happen. No matter what, things go wrong. And whatever happened to Michael and Gavin, it created a deep, emotional bond between the two.

Eventually, Geoff manages to pull in enough fish for dinner that night as Gavin attempts to help. He cleans the fish on the bank before they all head back to the house and slap them down on the grill over top the fire.

It’s nice how they’ve settled down, all sitting around the fire as the sun goes down. Sam settles himself down on Jack’s lap, purring as he kneads his paws onto Jack’s leg. He watches Michael and Gavin from across the fire. Michael has reached out as Gavin strikes up conversation with Geoff. He sets his hand down on Gavin’s wrist, stroking over the skin and looking at his face. He’s calmer now, more relaxed than when they first met. Jack hopes that he’s settling in now.

And as Gavin continues to talk to Geoff, turning his palm upwards to Michael’s hand and curling his fingers with his, Jack is suddenly struck by a familiar feeling of nostalgia and melancholy.

For the first time in a long time, he thinks of Joel.

…

They make a life together, the four of them. Gavin has grown comfortable with Jack and Geoff, and Michael seems tired of continual travel. Jack does what he can to make them both feel comfortable. He tells them about the area and to avoid the house across the lake.

“Griffon doesn’t take too kindly to strangers,” he says. “So you’ll have to be with me if you want to go over.”

He tells them about the daily tasks they have to keep up if they’re going to make this things with the four of them a reality. They need more food, for one. They’ll have to set out more snares and do more game hunting. Now that Michael has glasses, it becomes apparent that he’s pretty good with a bow and arrow, so Jack appoints him as the hunter. But only if Gavin goes with him—he won’t go anywhere without Gavin. Fair enough, Jack gets it. Michael is worried about Gavin constantly, always trying to keep him in his line of sight, so this is something Jack can work with.

As the weeks progress and summer fades into autumn, they continuously prep for the approach of the colder months. They’re continuously modifying the spare room for Gavin and Michael to rest comfortably. Jack wants to find them a bed. Geoff reaches out to his merchant contacts to see if they have can trade with. They only have food preserves they can offer, but it goes through. On the next trip through, Burnie and Gus come through with a double sized mattress. Stained and musty smelling, it still has a good support to it. It’s something they can work with. After saying goodbye to much of their food stocks, Geoff constructs a crude looking frame for it and they move it into the bedroom. After they throw a few blankets and sheets on it, it makes the entire house feel a bit more crowded. Not that Jack’s complaining. He finds he likes living with so many people now instead of occasionally visiting Griffon and the girls and chatting it up with Samson.

He likes being around _people_ again. He likes it when he wakes up and finds Geoff has rolled over to his side of the bed, plastered against him like a leech for the warmth and security. He likes it when Michael looks at him with less suspicion and more comradery. He likes how even though Samson refuses to even acknowledge Gavin’s presence that Gavin will go out of his way to try and hold the cat. It’s like they’ve formed their own little family, and for a time Jack can forget about the zombies that may or may not be stumbling their way to Jack’s corner of the world, that they all haven’t loved and lost someone dear to them. That they might’ve had to make the hard choice and kill a friend before they mutated into a threat.

Now that he’s surrounded by such love and companionship, Jack is less likely to think of the past and the tough choices he’s had to make. He can focus on Geoff and Gavin and Michael and not worry that they’ll be killed while they sleep. The house is secure. Wandering zombies are few and far between in this neighbourhood, so for a while they pretend that the world hasn’t gone to shit and they’re just living off the grid. It happens to be the best time of Jack’s life in recent years.

Autumn closes in with bitter winds and rainy days. A few holes of sprung leaks in the roof of the house, something they’ll need to fix before winter hits them. For now pots and pans and jars will have to suffice.

Jack startles awake one night when Sam decides to walk all over his chest. Sam _mrrps_ and Jack raises his hands to stroke the cat and whisper, “What is it buddy?”

Sam _mrrps_ and turns in small circles on his chest. Jack groans and sits up. Geoff is dead asleep, mouth slightly parted, one arm high above his head. Jack pulls the blankets up a bit to cover him and follows Sam to the front door. He opens it and Sam patters out only to sit on the porch as it rains lightly. Jack closes the door and lets the cat sit outside for a while. He’ll claw and howl his way back in when he’s sick of being outdoors. Until then, Jack is going back to bed.

He turns and is surprised to see Michael sitting at the kitchen table. He totally bypassed him when letting Sam out and didn’t realize he was already up and alert.

“Hey, Michael,” he says. “Sleep okay?”

“Not really,” he admits.

Jack sits down at the table. “Is something wrong? Another leak pop up?” He looks at the scattered pots and jars around the house. It speaks of a lot of work ahead of them. They’ll have to make pitch, they’ll have to construct their own shingles . . .

“No,” Michael says. “It’s just . . .” He scratches at the table top. “When it was just me and Gavin, we were always on the run, you know?” Jack nods. “We just had to keep moving, so one of us always had to be on the lookout for any zombies.”

“And you’re just having trouble sleeping because it’s a habit,” Jack says. “Okay. I got it.”

“It’s not easy settling down again. Everywhere we go, it just ends up all wrong again.” He’s frowning, becoming defensive. “It’s not easy to just let it all go because some guy—” he gestures to Jack “—gives you a place to stay.”

Jack nods. “I understand. If it makes it any better for you, I can stay up if you’d like. Keep an eye on things so you can sleep.”

Michael nods, turning tired eyes to Jack. “Thanks.”

“No problem.”

Michael heads back to the second room with Gavin and closes the door. At that moment Sam decides to yowl, having enough of the dreary early morning weather. Well at least some things never change.

* * *

The process of patching the roof is this: they need to make pitch, and they need to make shingles. Jack has never had to make any repairs on his roof before, but with the continued leaks, it’ll harm the foundation and he’s worried the roof with begin to sag. So before winter closes in, they need to fix the roof. He pulls out one of his survival books and finds instructions on how to make pitch. For this particular process they’ll need birch bark and burn it down until the resin leaches out. The process is manageable, but birch trees aren’t really common in this neck of the woods. He and Geoff decide to hit up the forest for birch trees while Michael and Gavin can stay behind and start preparing some shingles. What they’ll need to do is chop logs until they make thing sheets of wood. Not an easy thing to do with just an ax, but it doesn’t need to look pretty. It just needs to be functional.

Jack and Geoff head out with the wagon and some work gloves, intending on being gone for a few hours.

“Don’t burn the house down, you crazy kids!” Geoff says in good nature.

“Goodbye, Geoff!” Gavin hollers back and Jack chuckles. He’s so exuberant for someone living in a zombie filled world. It’s refreshing.

“So?” Geoff asks as they walk into the woods.

“So what?” Jack says.

“It’s been three weeks. What do you think of them?”

He’s asking about the boys.

“I think they’re great,” Jack says. “Yeah, they work well together and with us. You seem to be really taken with Gavin. Or rather, he seems to be really taken with you.”

“Yeah,” Geoff says, shoving his hands into his pockets and kicking at a stiff. “He’s a good kid. He just needed a break from all the running.”

“Do you know where they came from?”

“All I know is they used to live in a big city. The virus hit hard, so they had to get out quickly. He didn’t say much else.”

“Well, I’m glad they made it here,” Jack says and touches Geoff on the shoulder. Geoff smiles as well.

It’s certainly made a difference in their lives with the addition of Michael and Gavin. As each day passes, they’re becoming more of a family unit with Jack and Geoff as the older and wiser brothers. He cares for them deeply because he knows what they’ve been through. And to go through a zombie apocalypse when you’re a teenager is, well, _rough._ All your formative young adult years suddenly wasted for the need of survival. They must be exhausted by now, constantly on the run and in need of a good home. Both have made sacrifices to make it this far, and now all Jack wants to do is keep them safe.

They wander aimlessly through the forest, only coming upon a few sparse birch trees as they don’t grow this far south, not normally anyway. They don’t need much bark, but while they’re here, they check the snares, do a little foraging, and make it back home in the early afternoon.

There’s a pile of splintered wood off the side of the house. Michael is pounding away at the wood, making precise moments so what comes off of the logs are fairly flat pieces of wood they can use as improvised shingles. Gavin hovers around him, jumping and squawking whenever Michael surprises him with a sudden _chop._ Michael then laughs at Gavin’s reaction, something sweet and soft, and it’s nice to see that he’s finally letting his defenses drop before everyone. Jack is happy for him. He’s come a long way so far, having sacrificed so much to keep Gavin safe.

“Welcome back, lads!” Gavin says when Jack and Geoff stop. Geoff groans and sits down on the porch.

“We’re not done yet, Geoff,” Jack says and wheels the wagon to the fire pit. “We have a long way to go yet.”

“Can’t we just go find a new house to live in?” Geoff says.

“Not today, buddy.”

“Ugh. Fine.”

Making the pitch requires a lot of fire and patience. Jack stuffs the bark into an old paint can with a hole pierced in the bottom. He sets it overtop a second collection can pressed deep into the ground of the fire pit. He covers the paint can and then heaps a pile of wood and twigs over all of it and set is on fire. It’ll probably take a few hours to produce some results, so he sets the others on the process of figuring out where the leaks are. Safely on the ground, he watches their progress and raises a mug of water to his lips.

“How’d you learn how to do all this, Jack?” Gavin asks.

“Took out every survival book in the library,” he says.

“Fucking nerd,” Michael mutters all in good nature, and Jack smiles.

“Yeah, well nerds always said they were going to rule the world didn’t they?”

“Yeah, if they made it out of their basements first,” Geoff says.

“You know who’d best survive all this?” Gavin says. “That Man vs. Wild guy, whatever his name was.”

“Bear Grylls?” Jack says.

“Yeah! That guy. I bet he’s just living life as always.”

“I wonder if he even knows it’s the end of the world,” Michael says. “Or if he’s just living in the wilderness still filming his show.”

“Can you imagine?” Gavin laughs.

The afternoon passes by quickly with conversations like this. The pitch is made and slathered over the holes to then hold the new shingles in place. The nails they removed before hand are pounded in once more. They’ll have to wait for the next storm to roll in to make sure they got all the leaks, but Jack is satisfied with the end results. Geoff is less so. The pitch is sticky and leaves their hands stained. Jack sets up more water to boil and pulls out the soap supply so they can wash up before dinner.

“I’m not having dirty hands at _my_ dinner table,” he says.

“You’re such a mother hen,” Geoff says and scrubs at his nails with a brush.

“Someone has to take care of your guys.”

* * *

While Michael is still wary about leaving Gavin alone even for a moment, he’s getting better about trusting Geoff and Jack to take care of them. He’s not as jumpy or defensive as when he first showed up. It’s all a matter of progress.

Jack suggests that Michael should join him on the trip to the forest. Michael looks to Gavin at first but then shrugs and says, “Sure. Why not?”

“I’ll miss you, boy!” Gavin says upon their departure, wrapping himself around Michael’s shoulders and giving him a solid hug.

“It’s fine,” Michael says, pushing him off a little. “We’ll be back soon.”

“I’ll take good care of him, Michael,” Geoff offers and wraps an arm around Gavin’s shoulders. Gavin gives them all a bright smile.

“Let’s head out then,” Jack says.

It’s a rather silent trip down to the woods. Gavin is the more naturally chatty one of the two, willingly to talk anyone’s ear off if given the opportunity. He wonders if it’s a nervous habit, something to fill the sudden silence when people started dropping like flies. Jack doesn’t mind silence, but he can see how damaging it can be to anyone used to an excess of noise as a sign of life and surety.

“How long is this going to take?” Michael says, shoulders hunched, gaze fixed on the ground with a tight grip on his rifle. Jack isn’t a fan of using guns, not in this world setting. Too much noise that’ll attract too much attention. Out here it might be a bit fine, but it’s not really a risk Jack is willing to take. But it seems to give Michael some comfort in carrying it, so he lets it go.

“Not long. Just checking the snares and seeing if there’s anything good to bring home. Two hours work at the most.”

“Okay.”

They head further in, take what’s there and reset the traps. They come across a set of fresh tracks, and Jack suggests they follow it further into the woods. Michael hesitates at first, but then heads off in the same direction as Jack.

When Jack spots a head of antlers, he crouches down and takes cover. Michael copies him.

“What do you think?” Jack whispers.

Michael licks his lips and nods. “Yeah.”

The lone buck could feed them for a while. Jack points to Michael’s gun. Michael nods and lines up the shot. It’ll be loud, but they have nothing else to take down the buck. Jack wasn’t planning on hunting big game, so has no bow and arrow to shot with. The gun will have to do.

Michael fires a shot, and the buck collapses heavily. “All right!” he shouts, standing up and jogging over to the buck while Jack shakes the sounds of the shot out of his head.

“We’re going to eat like fucking kings tonight,” Jack says. He’s sick of rabbit and fish by this point and wants something substantial again.

They tie the buck’s bag legs together and construct some crude rope harnesses to pull the buck out of the woods and back onto the path. They’ll be dragging it all the way home, but together it shouldn’t take them long. With their work done, they head home.

They drag the buck in silence, focusing their energy on hauling the heavy carcass back home. Jack hears a gurgle and dead stops. Michael stops as well, cheeks flushed from the exertion. “What is it he asks?”

Jack shushes him and looks around for the source of the odd noise. The bushes tremble and out stumbles a half desiccated corpse. Jack slips out of the harness and raises his trust ax. He waits until it’s in range and swings the ax heavily down on the zombies head. He hits it twice more before stepping back closer to Michael.

“Wait,” Jack says, heart pounding. It’s been weeks since the last sighting, shortly before Michael and Gavin showed up. And even months longer since a horde showed up.

There sounds another painfully human groan, and another and another, calling out to each other like a flock of birds. They’re surrounded.

“Leave the deer,” Jack says and beckons Michael to follow him down the path. More zombies crawl out of the brush, forming into a pack on the path. They dance around the ones that jump out of them, knowing it’s better to run than engage. The dead deer will occupy some of them, but they need to get home now.

And it’s then as the horde forms that Michael suddenly remembers, “Gavin! We gotta go, Jack!” Before he can sprint off, Jack yanks him back.

“Michael, you need to calm down and save your energy,” he says calmly.

“I have to get back home!” he shouts.

“I know that, but we need to do this the smart way. Who knows how many are out there already. Just trust Geoff. They’re going to be fine. Just take a deep breath and trust me, okay? I’ll get us out of here.”

Michael breathes deeply and evenly a few times and gives Jack a shaky nod. “Good,” Jack says. “Now follow me.”

He knows the woods like the back of his own hand and takes Michael down winding paths to avoid the horde. They try to keep their footsteps light, but that’s nearly impossible. Any noise they make attracts more attention. The only thing they have going for them is that zombies are slow as fuck. Once they break the tree clearing, they sprint home, knowing full well that the horde will be on their tail.

When they make it back, sweaty and flushed, Geoff’s smile drops. “What’s wrong?” he says, holding Jack by the shoulders.

“Get everyone in the cellar,” he says. “The horde will follow.”

“Horde?” Gavin says, going a bit pale and looking immediately to Michael.

“Don’t worry,” Jack says. “I’ve dealt with them before. Just take all the food and water you can get and go down to the cellar. I’ll get any blankets and meet you there.”

They scramble to get ready and Geoff hustles the boys into the cellar. Jack is the last one to go down inside, holding a very grumpy cat and a stack of blankets. Once he double checks that they have everything they need, he closes the cellar doors topside and locks the one at the end of the stairs. He sits down heavily on the ground and breathes heavily.

“Everyone okay?” he asks and opens his eyes to look at all of them. They all look worried. Geoff from his near death scare beforehand and Michael and Gavin from whatever hell they’ve been through over the years.

“They’ve never made it down here before,” Jack assures them. “They’ll move on in a day so long as we keep it quiet, okay?”

Three nods. Good.

* * *

 

It’s a somber mood at first. No one speaks. The groans and moans of the horde grows louder. Sam hides in Jack’s arms. Gavin and Michael press into a corner together and Geoff settles down by Jack. They wait. They wait as the horde passes by. Jack doesn’t know how large it is. It’s all the same to him really. Hordes come and go. You just have to wait them out. It’s the best solution instead of trying to take them all out and get easily overwhelmed. Waiting is better.

It’s a silent agreement that during the night they’ll take watches. As a precaution and to put everyone at ease. Michael offers to go first. They split up the blankets, make some beds out of the cots and the floor space and slowly nod off.

Jack is the first to wake up, traces of a nightmare lingering at the edges of his mind. Of a time when he and a friend were cornered in a building. Where mistakes were made and a choice to be decided. Of Joel pleading, handing Jack the gun. _Please. Don’t let me turn. Please. Please._

Michael is sitting up, Gavin draped over his lap and fully asleep. Michael turns his tired eyes to Jack when he sits up.

“I can take over,” Jack whispers.

“He’s all I have left,” Michael admits, looking down at Gavin. His hold tightens. “He’s all I got, Jack. I can’t lose him.”

“You won’t,” Jack assures him, briefly looking at a sleeping Geoff beside him and thinking of the friend he lost so long ago. He doesn’t know how he did it then, but now he’s committed to keeping these three men safe here with him. “I promise you won’t. Get some rest. Please. I’ll take care of you guys.”

Michael then nods and repositions himself to sleep behind Gavin, curling an arm over his chest protectively. It probably takes him a while to finally sleep, but he goes quiet at least.

Jack stands quietly and stretches his arms over his head. He’ll stand to get his blood pumping, to get some alertness in his body. He chances a look outside a darkened window. It’s almost too dark to seeing anything, but he can still hear the horde, still hear those unearthly groans that make him want to scream.

* * *

The horde stays for three days. When the sun is up, the mood is somewhat lightened in the cellar. They pass the time playing with a deck of frayed cards, laughing softly whenever someone loses a game. They eat. They sleep. They watch over one another.

When the groaning comes to a peak, Jack settles down next to Gavin, who’s got his arms curled over his head. Jack pulls him into his side, offering him some support. He knows what hordes sound like and how it can get to your mind and drive you nuts. Gavin presses closer to Jack, wordlessly accepting the comfort.

At night, it’s the worst. Sometimes none of them can sleep when the zombies are close the windows, tripping over the cellar doors. They settle into a huddle in one corner because it’s damn terrifying listening to the mutated sounds of human beings just outside the cellar. Gavin and Geoff twine around each other like they’ve known each other for years, Gavin tucking his legs up and Geoff keeping his arms wrapped tightly around the other. Michael is a little less likely to accept physical comfort from anyone other than Gavin, but when he’s nodding off, he slides down against Jack, head on his shoulder. Jack throws a blanket over his legs and knows he won’t get much sleep tonight, but that doesn’t bother him. He doesn’t mind watching over them, his boys, his family. And while they sleep, Sam begins to purr when he has his belly turned up to Jack’s affectionate hand, and that in itself brightens up the entire cellar.

After the third night, Gavin takes a peak through the window as the sun begins to rise. There are no groans any longer, and Gavin says he can’t see anything around the immediate area.

“All right,” Jack says. “I’m going to poke my head out briefly to see if anything’s nearby.” He picks up an ax in the corner and unlocks the door. He gives them an encouraging nod and heads up the stairs.

He removes the piece of wood holding the cellar doors shut and lifts one just enough to get a look at the immediate surroundings. The grass is trampled and flattened, but so far no zombies. He opens the door farther. Nothing. He goes outside.

“Is it safe?” He hears Geoff call out from down below.

Jack thinks he see something far out in the distance that could be a lone zombie, but the horde has seemed to move on for now.

“All clear,” he says.

The first to come out is Sam, running out of the cellar and taking off. Jack doesn’t blame him. Any longer in the cellar and Jack would go stir crazy.

Geoff leads the boys and they all stand underneath the blinding sun, breathing in fresh air and stretching their bodies.

“We should stay by the house for a few days,” Jack says. “Just in case, but I think we’re good.”

“Thank Christ,” Geoff says. “I need a bath.”

“I want fresh food tonight,” Gavin says. “No more of that jerky stuff either.”

“You up for a little fishing trip, Gav?” Michael asks.

“Sure am!”

They rush off to gather the fishing poles and race down to the lake as quietly as they can. Geoff drapes an arm over Jack’s shoulder. He smells ripe. Jack wrinkles his nose and knows he can’t smell any better.

“So, about that bath,” Geoff says.

“I’ll go get the fire started.”

* * *

A few weeks later, Geoff says he’s going to stay with Burnie and Gus for a few days. They’re in the neighbourhood again and Geoff wants to catch up.

“I’m not even going to be that far,” he says. “Just a short walk over that hill.” He points in the general direction of where the merchants will be staying.

“Take care of yourself,” Jack says.

“Always do.”

“No, you don’t. That’s why you have me.”

Geoff laughs and presses a noisy kiss to his cheek. “Take care of the kids for me.”

Jack waves him off.

The ‘kids’ are currently off hunting, so Jack has the time to himself to finish disinfection his preserve jars for the next batch of canning products.

Their winter preparations are going ahead as planned. The roof is secure. They’ve brought down more fruits and vegetables for Jack to prep and can. They’ve got more wood stacked up to keep them warm and dry as the temperature drops and the clouds begin to roll in.

Gavin and Michael come home loaded with two deer. Jack couldn’t be happier. That’ll take care of most of their meat demands for a long time. He holds off on prepping the carcasses for carving and sees that the boys are refreshed from the long haul from the woods.

“Christ alive, that deer was heavy,” Gavin says.

“What are you complaining about?” Michael says. “I was the one who basically did all the work.”

“But, Michael. I’m weak. And you’re so strong. Just look at these muscles!” He squeezes Michael’s biceps unabashedly and receives an odd look in return.

“Hey, why don’t you two go down to the lake and clean up,” Jack says. “I can handle the deer.”

“You sure, Jack?” Michael asks.

He nods. “I’ll be fine. And it gets messy.”

Gavin coughs. “No way am I staying around for that. Race you to the lake?”

“You’re on!”

Michael and Gavin tear off towards the lake in good natured fun, laughter trailing behind them. Jack chuckles and moves to drag the deer off behind the house to the chopping block.

* * *

It’s odd sleeping alone that night. Jack finds he can’t get to sleep without Geoff pressed against him. _Only  few days_ he reminds himself. Geoff isn’t even that far from him. He’s with friends. He’s safe.

Doesn’t make it any easier though.

Two days later and Geoff finally comes home. But he’s not alone.

“Geoffrey!” Gavin says and rushes off to greet him.

Geoff lifts him off the ground. “Good to see you too, little buddy.”

Michael and Jack join them, and Jack sees a small figure standing somewhat behind Geoff.

“Geoff, who’s that?” he asks.

“Oh, right!” Geoff stands aside and introduces them. “This is Jeremy. Our latest addition to the Pattillo household!”

He sets his hands on the kid’s shoulder and stands behind him. He’s small, mouth set in a grim line. Jack sighs internally. _Oh, Geoff. What have you brought home now?_


	4. It's the God Damn Brady Bunch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> what up what up nerds! I'm back! And feeling much better. And here I am with a new chapter. for once on time. sweet. 
> 
> enjoy!

“Geoff, can I talk to you privately?” Jack asks.

“Sure thing.” Geoff turns to the newcomer Jeremy and points him in the direction of the house. “Go right inside, buddy. I’ll be there soon.”

Jeremy trudges off to the house rather listlessly. Once he’s inside, the three of them turn on Geoff.

“Okay, who is that?” Jack asks because he wasn’t expecting Geoff to come home with someone. He was expecting something more of the material route. A coat or something. New boots perhaps. Not another mouth to feed.

“That is Jeremy,” Geoff replies as if that’s going to explain everything.

“Yes, but what is he doing here?” Michael asks.

“Well, Burnie and Gus met him on the way out here from the safe zone and since they know I have a fairly stable home, that he could live with us for a while!” Geoff’s enthusiasm in this scenario is interesting. Jack thinks he’s trying to downplay the slight issue of having a fifth person live in this tiny house to make his roommates more likely to welcome Jeremy into the fold.

Now Jack has already proven himself to a kind and charitable man. But he needs to know that by letting Jeremy in the house that he isn’t putting the others at risk. Especially for Gavin and Michael, to put their minds at ease.

“Are you sure about this?” Jack asks. “I mean, we can barely fit the four of us in the house.”

Geoff waves off his concern. “He’s small and he barely makes a sound. He’ll be fine.”

“Well, if you’re sure,” Jack says.

“I’m sure,” he says, taking on a more serious tone. “Look, I know we’ve got a pretty great thing going on here and we don’t want to mess that up. But this kid has _nowhere_ to go. Burnie and Gus just found him on the side of the road. He needs a place to stay for a while.”

Well, Jack’s done it before, he can do it again. He looks to Gavin and Michael. “Are you guys okay with it?”

Gavin nods. Michael shrugs.

“Fine. He can stay.”

* * *

 

They need to rethink their winter plan. There are five people living in the same house now. The fruit trees are done producing. The ground is too damp and too cold to have anything grow successfully. The game is still good. Not much migrate further south for the winter, but they’re more likely to burrow underground. They can still fish if need be, but it’ll be a rough two months until the temperatures go up again and brings out the sun again. They can do it. They just need to be careful.

During the winter months, it gets damp. It gets dreary. The whole house is permeated with it. There’s a small woodstove in the living room that Jack makes good use out of to keep everything warm. They set out drying racks to dry their clothes after they’ve been washed. It’s enough to keep the house heated throughout the colder nights, but it’s always a struggle to get it going when they have to bring in wet wood and try to dry it out.

As always, they manage.

There are some things about Jeremy that concern Jack. He’s not concerned about Jeremy hurting the others. It’s clear after two days that he’s of little threat to them. No, what concerns Jack is that the kid doesn’t seem to be aware of anything going on around him. He seems listless, hasn’t said a word since he got here, and so painfully small that he should easily slip between the cracks in the floorboards. It seems like he wants to.

They make an improvised bed out of one of the cots from the cellar and set it out in the living room for Jeremy to sleep on. It can be folded up and tucked away during the day, but it’s a good enough set up for the time being.

The details Jack manages to get out of Geoff are this. While Burnie and Gus were on their way away around the area, spreading their wares and whatnot, they came upon Jeremy trudging down the road—alone, cold, and without any gear. They stopped to pick him up with the intent of taking him to the safe zone because it was clear the kid had been through something awful because he hasn’t said a word since.

“Nothing?” Jack asks.

Geoff shakes his head. “Not one word. He was just comatose. So when I went to see them, they asked if I had room to take him in. They’re going to be on the road for the next two weeks, so they didn’t want to cart the poor kid around until they went back to the safe zone. They said they’ll drop by when they head back so they can take him with them—if that’s the case.”

Jack hums thoughtfully. What Geoff said makes some sense whenever he looks at Jeremy. The kid looks like he’s seen something, so lost in his thoughts that he’s barely aware of the others around him. Every once in a while, he’ll raise his head, paying attention to something one of the others will do or say and Jack thinks he sees something of Jeremy inside his brown eyes, but then _whoosh_ —it’s gone in a flash.

So Jack attempts to keep the mood of the household normal. If Jeremy doesn’t want to talk, then that’s fine. Jack will extend a hand once in a while, get Jeremy out of the house to help out and get him moving.

He can certainly _do_ things, so it’s not like he’s helpless. He can swing an ax—has a powerful swing as he splits logs for the house. He’s quiet and unassuming, keeping out of everyone’s way, his presence barely felt.

But because he’s so quiet, he’s the one Sam goes to the most besides Jack. The cat will crawl over his lap, jumping up to bump his head against Jeremy’s chin, purring and rubbing his head on his chest. Sometimes during the night when Sam has had enough of Jack—and Geoff’s intermittent snoring—he’ll jump off the bed and curl up with Jeremy by the fire. It’s his new favourite spot, and while Jeremy doesn’t often show any recognition of his surroundings, he does interact with Sam. It seems like Sam is the one thing that can draw him out of whatever memory he’s stuck in.

One time during the night when Jack is awake and watchful because Michael can’t sleep, he watches Jeremy from the kitchen, leaning back against the counter. He’s lying flat on his back, lifting his head so he can nuzzle against Samson as the cat sits on his chest and nuzzles back. Jack thinks he can hear him talking to Sam, whispering sweet nothings as the cat continues to rub against him. Jack doesn’t let his presence be known and simply watches the scene from afar, smiling as the two continue to rub up against each other.

Even if Jeremy’s words aren’t directed towards  them, he makes himself known—quietly and sparingly, often interacting with the cat, trying to coax him out from under the cat, following him around outside. So long as they don’t get into trouble, Jack is fine with letting this happen. Sam is at least bringing Jeremy out of his listlessness.

Two weeks after Jeremy has arrive, Burnie and Gus stop by as Geoff promised they would. They pull up to the house and jump off the wagon, greeting Geoff and Jack as old friends and being introduced to Gavin and Michael. Gavin, after greeting both Burnie and Gus politely, decides to climb all over the merchants’ wagon because he’s too curious for his own good.

“Right,” he says. “What do we have here?”

Jack sighs and leans against the porch railing. Gus looks back the wagon and frowns. “Hey!” he says. “Get out of there!”

“Gavin,” Geoff admonishes.

“Michael, get him out of there,” Jack says.

While Gus frowns and Burnie merely looks amused, Michael moves to the back of the wagon, steps on the back of it, and _lifts_ Gavin out by hooking his arms around his waist. Gavin squeals at first at being manhandled, but shakes it off once he’s on the ground.

“I wasn’t going to steal anything,” Gavin says in his defence.

“Are you in the business of adopting now?” Burnie asks Geoff.

“Now that you mention it,” Geoff says thoughtfully. “It would explain an awful lot.”

* * *

Burnie and Gus stay for the night, and the house is filled with laughter and conversation. Burnie and Gus discover, much to their delight, that Gavin is an entertaining conversation partner. He has an interesting way of posing questions that make them all thing he’s at first an idiot only to realize that it’s the way he says things. He may sound like he’s wrong, but he’s actually right most of the time. It makes for a good night, set up around the wood burning stove.

Jeremy is tucked up on a chair with Sam, quietly taking everything in as they settle in for a lazy night of entertaining stories and amusing debates. What would complete it would be a nice beer. And probably something to munch on, but that’s not a luxury they have.

“How hard do you think it’d be to get a distillery going?” Geoff asks with his eyes closed and his hands folded over his stomach. He’s leaning against Jack on the couch, legs stretched out towards the stove.

“It can’t be that hard, can it?” Gus asks. “I mean, what does it really take to get a distillery going?” He looks to Burnie and Burnie seems to think in earnest.

 “You’d need lots of water and heat,” Burnie says, listing it off on his fingers.

“Pfft, obviously,” Geoff says.

“You’d need a base to work off like corn or wheat or something,” Gus says.

“Yeah, yeah,” Burnie says. “We can get corn. Corn fields all over the place.”

“And then all you need is to add some yeast,” Jack adds, “and mix it all together and boil it down until it basically makes something like vodka.”

“Fuck, I miss drinking,” Geoff says. “Honestly, I haven’t been this sober since we left Austin. And when was that?” He cracks an eye open to look at Burnie and Gus. “Three years ago? Four?”

“About yeah,” Gus says and Burnie nods.

“We could probably get a distillery going,” Gavin says, looking to Michael as he sits on the floor with his legs crossed. “”If that’s all the ingredients we need, it shouldn’t be that hard.”

“What do you know about alcohol?” Burnie says. “You were a baby when the world went to hell.”

“Hey,” Gavin says, affronted. “I was _seventeen_ thank you very much.”

Gus holds up his hands in mock surrender. “Oh, _seventeen._ Like that makes it better.”

“Still means I got a taste for it. How hard can it be?”

“Want to make a bet on it?” Burnie says.

Gavin sits up straighter. “Yeah, what’ll you give me if I make a successful distillery.”

“Whatever’s in my wagon.”

“Deal.”

Geoff rolls his head over to Jack and gives him a sleepy smile. “Looks like we’re getting a distillery.”

“I’m saying this now,” Jack says, holding up his hands. “I am not responsible if Gavin blows himself up in the process.”

“Looks like the bet’s on,” Burnie says.

Michael simply laughs. “You’re in for it now, Gavin.”

* * *

They set up the house for the night and settle down. Burnie and Gus wake up early to head out back to the safe zone. Jack gives them some food for their trip back. They thank him and they load up. Gus slouches in the bench of the wagon, looking wholly uncomfortable but insists that he’s fine. They stand outside to see them off until next time.

“Well, Jeremy, you’re welcome to come back with us to the safe zone,” Burnie says as he mounts up.

Jeremy first looks to Jack and then shakes his head minutely. Jack turns to Burnie and says, “It’s fine. I think it’s better if he stays here.”

Burnie nods. “Not a problem. See you guys next time.” He snaps the reins and the wagon trundles off to the nearest path.

“Well,” Geoff says, clapping his hands together. “Back to business as usual, boys.”

Gavin groans, but  Michael comes up behind him and pokes him in the  side. He jumps and runs away, Michael in quick pursuit as they round the house and disappear.

“Children,” Geoff says and comes up to Jack’s side, throwing an arm over his shoulders. “I’ll deal with the clowns and you can have Jeremy.”

“Deal.” He’d rather deal with the silent type than the rambunctious energy type anyway.

Geoff squeezes Jack tightly and gives him a quick kiss on the cheek and heads off  to find Gavin and Michael and get back to work. The nature of their relationship isn’t all that easy to define. While Jack certainly enjoys the closeness he shares with Geoff, going from inconvenient roommates to something of convenient boyfriends and now to the post-apocalyptic equivalent of a married couple. They’ve even adopted three kids, and that just adds even more to whatever it is between the four—now five—of them.

Their situation has made each of them in some way desperate for a safe place to live, for companionship, for the possibility of a tomorrow. They each depend upon each other for the physical and emotional support that the world has suddenly deprived them of. Jack has Geoff, the human companion he’s always missed and needed but never went looking for since the unfortunate passing of his close friend Joel. Geoff fits in with his life, connecting with Jack naturally with having no hangups that would make living together a challenge. Rather, it’s a joy and a privilege to wake up next to him in the morning, giving Jack something to smile about in this rather abysmal world he currently lives in.

And then there’s Michael and Gavin, each adding their own distinct brand and feature to the relationships growing within the house. They’ve been together for years from what Jack has found out over the weeks they’ve lived here. Once considered children when this all began, they were forced to mature too quickly, living in a stressful environment that cost many lives until just the two of them remained. They formed a deep emotional connection to one another where the possibility of even losing one of them would be unbearable.

That burden has been lessened now that they have Jack and Geoff in their lives, two older men, their age and maturity considered to be a comfort when they needed someone else to turn to. Michael could relax now, worrying less when Gavin wasn’t in his direct line of sight. He would reach out to Jack and Geoff for a problem he had instead of bottling it up until he would explode.

And Gavin. Gavin has come along, containing a natural optimism that is very refreshing in this world. He’s less scared than he used to be, opening up more and settling in well with the house and the situation he’s found himself in. Jack learned that Gavin and Michael came from far up north. They’d been walking for a good three weeks to get away from the cold and the snow so it wouldn’t kill them in the end. Three weeks that took a toll on their bodies and minds. Three weeks in which they’d nearly lost each other and been killed. They needed stability, and that’s what Jack and Geoff were able to provide.

They’re open to physical contact, seeking it out from others instead of just between themselves. Curling up beside Jack or Geoff if they’re locked in the cellar, braving a bad summer storm in the bedroom, or simply just because they want to. It’s the four of them now with a fifth addition.

Jack notices the brief changes in Jeremy’s demeanor. He’s slowly opening himself up, becoming receptive to their advances in welcoming him into the fold. He’s more expressive, looking them in the eyes, smiling whenever Gavin and Michael get into one of their typical rows. He still keeps close to the cat most of the time, but he’s settling in, and that’s just fine with Jack.

* * *

They keep up with their winter preparations, learning how to skin the deer they hunt to see their pelts for additional blankets as the temperature continues to drop. They fill the cupboards with jars of preserves, maintain the wood pile, and run down to fetch water from the lake whenever they need it. The damp and colder weather keeps them confined to the house for the most part. It drives Gavin nuts, and what he tries to do to entertain himself is go after the cat.

Sam does not like Gavin. Probably because Gavin is too energetic for his tastes, but Sam does not like him. Period. Blatantly ignores him and scampers away whenever Gavin tries to get near him. Of course Sam favours Jack and Jeremy above all others, and this doesn’t seem to help in improving Gavin’s mood when the weather keeps them inside.

They’re sprawled out around various spots in the living room, enjoying a rather lazy afternoon. Gavin is face first down on the ground, face tilted towards the space underneath the couch as he tries to tempt Sam to come out to him.

“Here, kitty kitty,” he says, voice pitched high and soft. “What are you doing in there, silly kitty?”

Michael, resting on the couch with his hands folded over his stomach, eyes closed, says, “Leave the cat alone, Gavin. He doesn’t want you.”

“How could he not want me? I’m as friendly as any of you.”

“You scare him. Constantly.”

“Please. He’s just being mean for the sake of being mean.”

Geoff, head on his hand, says, “Gavin, sometimes people just don’t like you. And that’s fine. You just have to live with it.”

“Yeah, but Sam’s a cat, you dope.”

“Then he’s just being a cat. It’s not that hard to understand.”

“But I _love_ cats and cats _love_ me. How could he not love me back?”

Jeremy goes to the other end of the couch and crouches down. In a gentle and soothing voice, Sam creeps out and purrs at Jeremy, chirping as Jeremy lifts him up and carries him away from Gavin.

“How come when Jeremy moves in with us, Sam goes over to him _all the time_ where I’ve been living here for weeks and I get shunned?” Gavin asks sitting up and tucking his legs up against his chest now that his quest for the cat has been ruined.

“Because you keep bothering him!” Michael says, louder this time and turning on his side to face him. “You harass him all the time. It’s no wonder he doesn’t like you. You keep chasing him. At least Jeremy just sits there quietly and lets the cat come up to him when Sam’s ready!”

“Why do you have to be so mean, Michael?” Gavin asks, smiling up at Michael innocently enough.

“Someone has to be. If it’s to keep you in line.”

Jack sighs and shakes his head minutely.

Gavin flops back down onto the floor and starfishes, limbs spread akimbo on the ground. He looks up at Jeremy, who’s made his home on the chair with the cat.

“What is it with you and cats, Jeremy?” he asks. “What does he like you and not me?”

Jeremy remains quiet for a moment. “Cats just like me,” he says quietly, words have hidden in the fur of Sam’s coat.

“That’s not fair,” Gavin says. “What’s there not to like about me?”

“Uh, everything?” Michael says.

“Most things, yeah,” Geoff agrees.

Gavin huffs and pouts, which is slightly ridiculous but no less adorable.

“Don’t worry, Gavin,” Jack says. “I like you.”

Gavin beams at him. “Thanks, Jack.”

* * *

It’s slow and steady progress with Jeremy. His physical presence is reassuring enough. While quiet, he fills up the room, lights it up with his soft demeanor. His trust in them in slow to grow, but he’s coming along, coming out of his shell to say his piece every now and then, telling Gavin to be careful, praising Michael on a job well done, thanking Geoff for the help, and smiling brightly up at Jack. He fits in well with their household, however you want to describe it and put it into working terms.

Winter has finally settled in, covering the land in a damp fog that seeps into your bones and saps you of your energy. They keep an eye on their food levels, leaving to check the forest for their snares usually every day, but for fruits and foraged items, what they have now will have to tide them over until spring when life begins to grow again. They’ll be able to make it. They know the drill: ration when you can, stretch out the food, and make it last. It’s a hard life, but they’re living it together so that makes it easier.

What sucks about this winter in particular is that it’s incredibly susceptible to foggy mornings, lasting late into the day until the sun burns it all off. Jack supposes the fog is partially due to the pond they live near, the warmer water meeting the colder air to create the perfect environment of foggy mornings. Either way, whenever they leave the house, they must leave in pairs, suitably armed with a few axes. It’s the rule in case a wandering zombie comes out of the fog and attacks them. Even if they’re living together and safer than when they were alone, you can never be too careful.

Water trips are made daily now. Jack wants to use the still functioning gutters to catch ran in barrels to ease their water consumption somewhat, but they don’t have the tools needed to take on such a task. It’s a project for the future. Luckily, the pond isn’t that far, so they take the wagon and the water jugs and head down in alternating pairs and take it back to be boiled to make it safe for consumption, for bathing, or for washing clothes, using soap made of the lye in fire ash and animal fat from cooking.

Jeremy offers to go with Jack to the pond one day, leaving Geoff with the boys to spend another lazy, wet day in the house. Geoff is stretched out on the couch with Gavin trying to worm his way into his arms. Michael is already asleep on Jeremy’s cot, taking the opportunity of a wakeful household in order to rest fully.

Jack loads up the wagon with Jeremy’s help, and they set off down the path to the pond. It’s quiet at first as are most journeys with Jeremy. But this time, half way down to the water’s edge, Jeremy decides to speak up.

“I wanted to thank you,” he says, lowly, eyes on the ground.

“You don’t need to say anything,” Jack assures him, letting the wagon roll to a stop on the bank and set a hand on Jeremy’s shoulder. The kid leans into it, and not for the first time does Jack wonder how old Jeremy is. Younger than Michael? Younger than Gavin? _Poor guy._

“I’m just glad you’re somewhere safe,” Jack continues. “I’ve made the same offer to the others. You’re welcome to stay as long as you want. I don’t think anyone would mind in the slightest.”

“It’s just,” Jeremy starts. Then he sighs, looking as if he’s going through an internal struggle to get the words out after spending so long in silence. He clenches his fists, then moves to remove the water jugs from the wagon to being filling them. “I’ve stayed in places before. And everyone says the same thing. You’re safe here. You can stay. But at the first sign of trouble. They leave.” He looks down at the murky water, brow furrowed in frustration, clenching and unclenching his hands repeatedly.

“I know it’s not an easy thing to promise,” Jack says quietly. “Especially the world we live in now.” He pauses and thinks deeply on the next words he has to say. “I can’t promise that we’ll always be together, but for the time being, I’ll do whatever I can to keep you and the others safe. That’s a promise I can and will keep for as long as I can.”

Jeremy sets down on the jugs with a sudden _thud_ and wet slosh. He steps around the wagon and falls against Jack’s chest. His head barely reaches Jack’s shoulder. Jack wraps his arms around him, and they stand there together for a moment, surrounded by drifting fog and the gentle lapping ripples of the water.

“Let’s get back to the house now,” Jack says and goes to fill the second jug.

* * *

As Jeremy slowly emerges from himself, it’s quite clear that he’s fully capable of taking care of himself. He knows his way around an ax. He knows his way around a gun. He knows his way around a bow and arrow. He’s a product of the time he had to grow up in, learning about survival instincts and how to forage rather than learning the basics of schooling. There’s a roughness to him that makes him a survivor, a grim line set to his lips whenever a lone zombie happens to wander upon them. From the silent member of their household, he’s become the bruit protector, violently swinging an ax down whenever one of his family members is threatened.

He saves Gavin when he freezes in the face of a zombie—something that Gavin often does, overcome with fear and a memory he cannot speak of, freezing because he doesn’t know what to do. This earns him the steadfast trust and appreciation of Michael. The two of them click immediately, having realized they grew up in the same city and now have been reunited under one roof again.

Geoff seems to favour Jeremy out of all the kids. This becomes an area of contention, something they can all poke fun at, but Geoff maintains that he likes Jeremy the best, slinging an arm around him as he does with nearly everyone and tugs him close. Jeremy, bashful at the sudden influx of physical contact, only blushes and laughs nervously. It can be overwhelming at times, trying to juggle so much attention at once. They’re always in each other’s business, in each other’s space, in each other’s lives. You just go with it and hope for the best, really.

They mostly sleep their way through winter, taking advantage of the warmer, sunnier days when they can, and hunkering down when they can’t. It’s stifling at times. Taking trips to the forest and down the lake offer some respite of the crowded conditions, giving them the space they need so they don’t resent each other at the end of the day.

_A secret to a happy marriage is to not go to bed angry._

It works with their situation.

In the meantime, Jeremy has seemingly abandoned the cot by the fireplace and has worked his way onto the beds with them, taking turns with Gavin and Michael and then waking up with Geoff and Jack. No one says anything or makes a comment about the new sleeping arrangements. It’s just one of those things that you come to accept, because in this world. This world doesn’t have a need for questions or raised eyebrows. They live in a world surrounded by zombies. You just accept things for the way they are and move on.

And who’s to say that Jack doesn’t enjoy waking up to both Geoff and Jeremy? Geoff has the habit of cuddling anyone who’s closest to him, so often enough Jack wakes him to the two of them already curled up around each other.

It’s a good life, he thinks.

Too bad it doesn’t last.

* * *

It’s still the zombie apocalypse no matter how much they delude themselves that what they have here is safe and secure. At some point, shit’s about to hit the fan and if you don’t have a backup plan, you’re fucked. Plain and simple.

Spring comes upon them with a flurry of colour and animal activity. The bugs have burrowed out of the ground. The birds have returned to continue pecking at the ground and building nests. The threat of starvation is no longer hovering over their heads, and soon enough they can being filling their cupboards the labours of spring. Geoff continues to teach the boys how to fish—rather unsuccessfully. Jack attempts his hand at growing a garden again, but nothing yet comes up from the ground. Oh well. They do fine on their own even without sustainable agricultural practices.

Since it’s been a few months that Jack has seen Griffon and the girls, he decides to take his boys over so that they can actually meet their neighbours across the pond and take some of their food with them. It’ll be good to get out of the house for a while and become socially engaged. Jack makes plans with the others and they all sound excited. Jeremy has yet to meet their neighbours, and Michael and Gavin have only met them sparingly when they come over during canning season. It’s high time for some social fun.

They pack their bags full of food and water and some other safety measures because you can never be too careful and they set off on the long walk to Griffon’s.

Five minutes in Gavin begins to complain. Because he can.

“My feet hurt. Michael, carry me.”

“Not a chance in hell.” Michael bats at Gavin’s grabbing hands and shoves him off. “You can walk, you idiot. You literally walked _hundreds of miles_ to get here. You can manage this short trip on your own.”

Undeterred, Gavin turns to Jeremy. “Jeremy,” he says, lowly and in a slightly creeping tone.

“Get over here, buddy.”

Gavin whoops and adjusts himself behind Jeremy. He jumps and Jeremy catches him. “Hap!” Secured on Jeremy’s back they continue on down the path with Gavin’s long, thin legs dangling above the ground as Jeremy struggles to keep a hold on him.

The ground eventually gives way underneath Jeremy’s foot, and they both go tumbling down the hill, Michael’s jarring laughs following the down until they land in a heap.

Jack stops to look at them, laughing as he does. Geoff shakes his head and mutters, “Children.”

“Don’t they make you proud, Geoff?” Jack asks.

“For what? All I see are three idiots.”

“Yeah, but they’re _our_ idiots.” Jack smiles broadly at Geoff and Geoff rolls his eyes.

“All right,” he says. “Come on now. We’ve got a long way to go. You can goof off as much as you want at Griffon’s.”

They continue on down the path, taking their time and bumping into each other. It takes longer to get to Griffon’s than usual, but they’re having fun. They deserve this after all the hard work they’ve done over the past few months.

But as soon as they get within earshot of Griffon’s house, a high-pitched scream kills the laughter. Ice water floods Jack’s veins. He turns to see the house only a hundred yards from them. He see a zombie. Then one. Two. Three. _Ten._ A horde spilling over from the other hill behind Griffon’s house. He sees a small figure on the ground—Meg. Griffon wield a fierce ax and caves in the zombie’s head and pulls her up and to the house.

“No,” Jack whispers and takes off in a sprint down the path and towards the house to help in any way he can.

In hindsight, this may not be the smartest move to do when being confronted by a horde. But Jack doesn’t care. This is _Griffon_ and _Meg_ and _Lindsay._ In a way, they’re also a part of his family, his extended family. And he can’t leave him like this. Damn the consequences. Damn everything. He needs to help.

He swings out his ax against the nearest zombie he can reach. Two more swings and it goes still. He yanks the ax out with a violent tug and turns onto the next one, adrenaline fueling him into a frenzy where he swings and hacks anything that would prove to be a threat.

A zombie falls quite suddenly from behind him, coming up behind him to take him by surprise. Geoff is there by his side and gives him a grim nod. The others have arrived as well, taking up on the non-spoken command to go to work.

They kill twenty of them easily. But more just keep coming, and Griffon yells at them to get inside. They follow quickly. She shuts the door, but the continuous pounding means the zombies won’t leave them alone. They’ll most likely break down the door. Griffon urges them down through the floor to the basement with Meg and Lindsay. They hurry and she seals them in.

It’s dark in the basement at first. The windows have been covered up long ago by thick pieces of lumber. Griffon swears and moves off to light a candle and moves off to light a few more until the room is flooded with a warm orange glow.

When his eyes adjust to the light, Jack moves to check on each of his boys. Geoff. Then Gavin and Michael. And finally Jeremy. Michael is crowding Gavin against the nearest wall as he usually does when a zombie horde moves in on them unexpectedly. Jeremy is breathing harshly. Jack gathers him up in his arms and holds him close, murmuring that they’re safe. They’re okay. Jack will protect him. He will.

He swears.

The basement, like Jack’s cellar, is sparsely furnished, meant only for short periods of being lived in as a horde moves by. It’s not meant to house eight people. The horde outside seems to be angry though, judging from the sounds, so they could be here a while. They need to think of a plan.

Jack goes Griffon next to make sure that she’s all right. She’s off to the side with her girls, standing over them with her arms crossed and face set in grim determination.

“Griffon,” he says softly, tapping her on the shoulder. “Are you okay?”

She rubs her face wearily, and Jack can see the stress on her face. Dark circles, bloodshot eyes, deep lines in her forehead. When she sighs, it stutters, like she’s close to the breaking point but can’t for the sake of the group’s morale.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” she says, and throws her arms around him. Jack holds her close, knowing that if she’s being this physical with him, she truly must be tired.

“Yeah, we were going to come down for the day. Good thing we did.” When she pulls away, he continues to hold her by the shoulders, stroking up and down her arms soothingly. “What happened? I haven’t seen a horde that size in . . . forever.”

“Ask him,” she says and turns to look over her shoulder at the far back of the basement.

And then Jack sees him. The ninth occupant. The candle light doesn’t reach him fully, so Jack picks up a candle and moves further back a few steps.

Tied to a jack post supporting the main floor is a man. He’s sat on the floor with coils of rope keeping him securely tied to the post with his hands behind his back. His long legs are stretched out before him, blood pooling from under his right leg. He lifts his head up when Jack approaches him, long strands of hair sticking to face. He has a fat lip a cut over one cheek. He looks pale, shaken like an injured animal.

Jack looks back at Griffon. The basement is quiet as they all look at the bound man. “What is this, Griffon?” he asks.

“A god damn fucking lurker,” she spits, setting her hands on her hips as she approaches him. “Someone’s been hunting near us and I know it wasn’t any of you. Then this fuck—” she gestures to the man “—stumbles upon his early this morning, wounded and limping and trailing a fucking zombie horde like a fucking idiot.”

A large crash from upstairs startles them all, and Griffon swears.

“Great,” she says. “And now my fucking house is ruined. Just great.” She turns away from the bound man in disgust and goes over to Meg and Lindsay to assure them and be assured in return.

The bound man looks up at Jack and Jack is distinctly reminded of a time when he had to make a hard choice, when someone looked up with hurt eyes and a bite wound, knowing that they were, in the end, doomed.


	5. It's a Trojan Horse But This Ain't Troy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *wheeze* we did it
> 
> we made it

Three years after the beginning of the end, Jack found himself alone with his long-time friend Joel. They were all they had left of their old life back in the city. The others of their group had left, died off, or been infected.

The last time Jack faced a bad horde is when they were picking over a strip mall. Cornered by a nasty horde, they fought their way through, tripping and scrambling over piles of trash and makeshift barricades. And Jack thought they were going to make it. Until Joel tripped and a zombie fell over top of him. Joel screamed loud and shocked. Jack ran back to smash the zombie’s head in. He picked up Joel and half dragged him away into a room where they could lock the door. The horde followed them, knocking at the door.

“There’s a window,” Jack said hurriedly. “We can climb through it and get out of here.”

“Jack,” Joel said, panting.

“Come on. Help me move this desk.”

“Jack,” Joel said again, and Jack paused. He turned to look at Joel. Joel removed his hand from his shoulder. It came away bloody. “I’m sorry, man.”

Jack felt his heart plummet to his stomach. His legs gave way and he collapsed down next to Joel. The horde continued to pound at the door. They probably didn’t have long.

“I want you to do something for me,” Joel said. He took out the precious handgun he had tucked into the back of his pants. He handed the gun to Jack.

“No,” Jack said, already feeling his eyes wet with tears. “No, I can’t.”

“Jack, I need you to do this for me,” Joel pleaded. “I can’t . . . I can’t do it to myself. Don’t let me turn. Don’t let me be like them. _Please, Jack._ Please.”

Joel was already starting to shake. Jack didn’t know how long they had yet until Joel would start feeling himself be torn apart, lose parts of himself and be transformed into a monster.

He curled Jack’s hand around the gun, raising it to his forehead. “It’s going to be okay,” he murmured, giving Jack a crooked smile. “You’re going to be fine. You can do this. You’re _Jack._ ”

Despite himself, Jack smiled.

A sudden crack at the door spooked him and he pulled the trigger. It startled him. He dropped the smoking gun and jumped up. Joel was slumped against the wall slowly sliding and leaving a trail of blood. Another crack at the door. Jack moved, pushed the desk under the window, and climbed out. He dropped into the alley and ran.

He ran and ran and ran and didn’t stop running until he felt his lungs would burst and he puked into the grass on the side of the road. And there he sat and wept.

“We need to think of a plan,” Jack says, trying to keep everyone calm now that the house has been overrun with zombies. “We can’t stay down here realistically.”

“And go where?” Michael asks. “We’re in a fucking hole the ground!”

“Michael, settle down,” Geoff says, rubbing his head wearily.

“We can’t fight our way through a horde,” Griffon says. “There’s too many.”

“Not if we bottle neck them.” Jack looks to the stairs leading out of the basement. “We unlock the door and let them down here. As long as we keep them at the stairs, we’ll be able to take them out one by one until they’re more manageable. Then we work ourselves up the stairs and keep going. So long as we do so carefully and slowly, we’ll be just fine. We can’t stay down here forever because there’s not enough food to keep us all fed.”

He looks at them all around the room. Most of them are pale, withdrawn in the face of possible death. But Jack needs to get them up and moving, make them believe that they can get out of this. There’s eight of them, all experienced zombie killers at this point. They’ll be able to make it.

“We can do this,” he says earnestly. “We’ve made it this far. We can do it again.” He goes to pick up his ax. Griffon is the first to follow him.

She nods. “We’ll remove the boards covering the door,” she says. “Lindsay, Meg, you two will be in the back with the bows. The rest of us will cover you and take out the ones that make it to the floor. Once we’re out of arrows, if we can collect them, we’ll take them, but if not, it’s all hands on. Got it?” Meg and Lindsay nod, assured by Griffon’s sudden passion. They move and that sparks everyone else into getting into action.

Griffon offers to go up and get the door open. Once it is, she races back down and stands beside Jack. They wait.

“If these were the old days,” Geoff says, “I’d say drinks are on me if we make it through. But these aren’t the old days and I’m all out of drinks. So I’ll just say, good luck.”

“Your motivational speeches _really_ do work there, Geoff,” Jeremy says.

“Thanks, Jeremy. I do like to try from time to time.”

The first zombie stumbles down the stairs. Once it’s half way down, Griffon yells, “Now!”

One arrow is loosed. It sinks into the zombie’s stomach only making it stumble. When it falls, Griffon is quick to finish it off with her hunting knife. She pulls out the arrow, finds it undamaged, and tosses it back to the girls.

From there it’s a blood bath.

The zombies stumble over each other, tripping down the stairs and landing in a heap only to meet an ax to the forehead. Once it gets busy, they watch over each other, set up in lines so that if one falls, they can be yanked back by someone standing behind them. They rotate to save their energy, keeping an eye on each other as the zombies continue to pour in.

In the midst of the action, Jack briefly looks to the man bound at the post. A zombie is clawing its way towards him. The man kicks out with his feet, trying to twist his body away. Jack rushes over and finishes off the zombie. The man looks up at him, eyes wide. He looks like he’s going to say something, but then looks at something behind Jack.

“Behind you!” he shouts.

Jack turns. He pushes the zombie back with a hand on its neck so it can’t bite him. It’s life ends with an arrow through the head. He drops the body.

“You good, Jack?” Lindsay asks from across the room.

He nods and gives her a thumbs up before heading back into the fray.

They fight their way up the stairs as the zombies begin to come in fewer and fewer numbers. They clear out the main floor and move to the busted down door. They continue with the bottleneck approach, killing them all by hand with their arrows depleted. They move as a unit, never stopping, never thinking—survival was their only goal in mind. And when the zombies stop coming in from the door, Jack moves to look outside. There’s only a dozen or so zombies left. The others are either dead or they’ve wandered off.

“Let’s finish this,” he says and takes a moment to wipe off his glasses.

As a group they continue to kill the other zombies until none are left. And when it’s all said and done, they move to the water’s edge and sit down with their feet in the water.

They sit in silence, splashing water on their faces to wipe away the gore. Jack would like to burn his clothes. He sees Jeremy scrub at his hair in the water.

“I feel like I should just burn the place,” Griffon says, sat beside Jack. “Start over somewhere else.”

“We can clean it up,” Jack offers. “Drag out the bodies, pile them up, and burn them.”

“Do you think it’s worth it?”

“If you want the house, I’ll do it.”

Griffon looks to the house and sighs. She digs her bare feet into the murky depths of the pond. “I’d like that,” she says.

He sets his hand on her shoulder and rubs reassuringly. He gives her a smile and she returns it.

* * *

The next several hours are filled with dragging out the half-rotting corpses and piling them up far from the house. It’s harder when they get into the basement, but they work through it together. They split up into pairs and move through the gruesome work of removing the bodies. While all this goes on, the man continues to remain bound in the basement, silent and watching.

Outside, Jack asks Griffon what her plans are for him.

“If he’s bit, I’m killing him,” she says, wiping her brow.

“And if he isn’t?”

She shrugs. “I don’t know. I don’t want him anywhere near my house. He already threatened us once. I’m not giving him any passes after this. He’s bad fucking luck.”

“I’ll deal with him,” Jack says.

“Thanks, Jack.”

Jack goes into the basement and retrieves a basic med kit from his pack. He moves to the man and asks, “Are you bit?”

The man looks up and shakes his head quickly. “I’m not. I swear.”

“I can look at your leg for you,” Jack says. “Griffon doesn’t want you to stay here, but you can’t move if that leg isn’t patched up. Okay?”

The man nods slowly, and Jack moves to crouch down in front of him with the med kid. The man first flinches away from Jack, possibly out of habit, but then he stretches out his injured leg again. Jack pushes up his tattered pant leg to look at the cut.

It bled a lot, evident from the stains it’s left behind as it trailed down over the man’s calf and down to his ankle, soaking his sock and shoe in it. Jack picks up the clothe from the bowl of lukewarm water, squeezes it out a bit, and begins to wipe away the blood until he’s able to find the cut and see what damage has been done.

The cut is about five inches long, but thankfully it isn’t deep. The skin around it is inflamed. It could be infected, so he’ll have to work to clean it thoroughly and possibly stitch it if it’s too deep in any place.

“How’d this happen anyway?” Jack asks to cut the tension between them.

“I was scouting,” the man says. “There’s an old military base about three hours north of here. I was just looking around and got trapped by the horde. I dug myself out from under a fence and got caught on the chain link. The horde followed me. I wasn’t able to get away.”

And in his panic, he ran to the nearest sign of human civilization, dragging behind him a horde he couldn’t flee from on account of his injured leg. This Jack catches on his own and he understands. The man was scared. He needed help, but came to the wrong place for it.

Jack soaks a piece of clean cloth in precious rubbing alcohol and holds it against the cut. The man hisses, shoulders tensing at the sudden cold pain. Jack doesn’t apologize. He wipes at the cut firmly, making sure that all the dirt and grime is out. Once the wound it clean, he inspects it to make sure it doesn’t need stitches. It doesn’t, thank goodness. That would complicate things. He presses an adhesive pad over the wound and finishes it off by wrapping strips of cloth over the pad to keep it in place. He ties it off firmly. The man grunts in pain. Jack _almost_ feels bad for him.

Almost.

With that done, Jack cleans up the materials and moves to untie the man.

“Thank you,” the man says, rubbing his wrists and using the jack post to stand up.

“Save it,” Jack says harshly. He points an accusing finger at the man. “You put my entire family in danger. My cat could very well be dead right now. _And_ you trashed my friend’s house. We’re letting you go because we aren’t monsters.”

Jack turns on him and walks up the stairs to help clean up the rest of the house. The man follows him a moment later and makes his quiet escape. They all watch him as he limps away, walking as quickly as he can to get away from them.

“Good riddance,” Griffon mutters.

* * *

They burn all the bodies, heaping them onto a large pile and setting it ablaze far from the house. It smells something awful. Gavin retreats on account of his poor stomach. Michael and Jeremy follow soon after. Once the grotesque part of the cleanup is done, the group retreats to a house. Griffon stands off the side of the main room, looking at all the smashed and torn objects, the door busted off its hinges, the large pools of congealed blood.

“We can fix this,” Jack says as he comes to stand beside her.

She sighs and nods wearily. “Okay.”

They only have an hour of daylight left, so they make a quick meal and figure out the sleeping situations upstairs. There are three bedrooms, but they really only need two. The girls go to one, and Jack and his boys go to another. It’s a late night. Everyone’s exhausted from the long fight and the cleanup process, but the horror of the fight has dredged up memories for everyone. Michael and Gavin are huddled together, Geoff hovering over them like a hawk. Jeremy is damn near catatonic on the bed, and Jack goes to him first.

“Hey, buddy,” he says softly, sliding a hand up Jeremy’s arm and onto his shoulder. He sits down slowly on the bed. “How are you—” Jeremy falls against him suddenly, breath stuttering as his hands fist themselves in the material of Jack’s shirt. “Oh, okay. Okay. There now. You’re fine. You’re okay. We’re all okay.”

He holds Jeremy as he continues to shake, to work through the fear he could not process as they fought through the horde. While Jeremy possesses a great strength and fortitude in him, he is still, in part, that young boy who first witnessed it all go down. As he watched his friends and family succumb to the virus, he continued on. But everyone has their breaking point, and today reminded him that he could lose it all again, that he would have to go on and search for another home if he were to survive. And Jack doesn’t know how much more this kid can take until he reaches that final breaking point.

They all make their rounds, securing their own sense of comfort knowing that everyone is all right. Jack offers to take first watch for them so they can sleep in peace. With the sleeping arrangements settled, they settle down for the night. Jack, Geoff, and Jeremy on the bed while Gavin and Michael make do with some other bedding they pulled out of the third bedroom.

When they’re all deep asleep, Jack moves to look out the window into the dark night beyond. The sky is so clear here. Now that most of the population has been drastically thinned and they’ve been reduced to relying technology from the Stone Age, he can see thousands upon thousands of stars. And it is beautiful, even though it came at a high price. As the environment heals from humanity’s mistakes, people try to move on and gather their wits, trying to establish a new normal. Jack doesn’t know how the rest of the world is doing, if there is any semblance of a government still active. But here he doesn’t care about that. He doesn’t care about any of it. He has his boys. He has his family.

And yet.

Something is bothering him.

Out there is a man, recently injured and alone, trying to make it through life alone, spurned by the only other people in the area. Jack was angry at first, shaking in rage that this man dared bring a horde to their doorsteps and nearly have them all killed. But on the other hand, he understands why the man would come here in the first place. He was scared and in need of help. Of course he would go to the nearest house.

And now he’s feeling guilty. He pushed away someone in obvious need. The man didn’t try to hurt any of them when he first arrived or when Jack let him loose.

He sighs and silently hopes that the man is okay.

When it’s time for him to sleep, he settles down on the bed beside Geoff and closes his eyes.

* * *

Fixing Griffon’s house takes two days of work. They haul buckets of water from the pond to the house to clean up the gore. They sweep up the smashed remains of dishes and trailed dust and dirt. They fix the busted down door and make sure the women have enough food until they decide to go hunting again. Once everything is done and set right and they feel safe, Jack and his boys return home.

It’s good to be back at their house again with their things, their belongings. Samson is there waiting for them, angry and refusing to be appeased by them. He meows loudly, spurning any physical contact from being abandoned. Jack gives him something to eat, but even then it’s not until night that Sam decides to forgive them.

Somewhat still shaken, they rearrange the beds so they can all fit into the larger bedroom. Sleeping is a bit easier that night than previously, and Jack knows that they’re going to be okay.

He still thinks about the man, though.

* * *

In a few days, life returns to normal. Late spring brings with it a bounty of food. They grow lazy on the days that their safety is assured, staying close to the house and coming up with new ways to entertain each other. What Jack would give for a deck of cards.

Because wood is mostly all that they have, Jeremy sets out to make his own Jenga set, larger than what Jack remembers the store bought versions of the game. At least it keeps him busy.

Other than that, life goes on. A few times a week, Geoff will go fishing and take the boys with him. His quest to teach them how to fish continues to be fairly unsuccessful, but no less enjoyable. Jack will sit on the bank with a book in his hands, reading up on medicinal purposes for plants while Sam walks all over him. Geoff will stand knee deep in the water with his pant legs rolled up. From there he’ll try to instruct the boys who pace along the shore. Usually Gavin is the first to join, his eagerness winning over his trepidation of what _could_ be in the water.

Usually how these trips end is Michael comes up behind an expecting person, usually Gavin, and shoves him into the water. Gavin will squawk and splash into the water, groaning up at Michael, usually muttering something about betrayal as Jeremy, Michael, and Jack laugh at him. And Geoff will stand there quietly, shake his head, and mutter, “children.”

It’s good until one early morning when Jeremy goes to light a fire outside to cook up some breakfast that the peace shatters.

_“What the fuck?!”_

They all rush out to see what’s happened. Jeremy is pointing out to a nearby tree. Hanging from one of its lowest branches is the carcass of a deer. Jack carefully approaches it. It’s been gutted and bled out to save the meat, but other than that, it’s ready to be carved up and preserved. Jack looks to the ground and sees a patch of trampled grass heading into the direction of the forest.

“That’s creepy as shit,” Michael says.

“Who do you think did that?” Gavin asks. “I doubt it was Griffon and them.”

“Yeah,” Jack says and looks at the forest. He has a sneaking suspicion, but . . .

“Are we just going to look this gift horse in the mouth or . . .” Geoff asks and finishes with a shrug. “I don’t know about you, but I like eating deer, so.”

Everyone is a bit wary about the apparent gift, but Geoff’s stomach wins out, so they take it away, skin it, and carve it up into healthy sized portions to either be grilled or smoked. The fact that someone went through the effort of hunting down a deer, gutting it, bleeding it, and stringing it up as a _gift_ is somewhat concerning. In this world, egocentrism is the new norm. You do things out of the need to keep yourself alive. Everyone else is an afterthought.

Jack knows who did this, but he’s asking himself why? Why would an injured man go through all this trouble to give them a deer?

And the gifts don’t stop there. A few days later, there’s a large dead turkey hanging from the same tree, something Jack has never eaten because he’s shit with a bow and arrow. They pluck it and spit roast it that night, thanking their mysterious gift-giver for the food.

While the man clearly comes at night to deliver the gifts, Jack has decided that he’s going to wait for him. He extricates himself from the hold Geoff has on him and goes to sit on the porch in the dark and wait for the man’s inevitable return. He does this several times until he gets lucky and is awake the time the man arrives.

The man is at the usual tree, stringing up something else when Jack decides to call out to him.

“Hello there,” he says, somewhat quietly so he doesn’t wake up any of his roommates.

The silhouette by the tree—because it’s dark as fuck—freezes. Jack stands up and moves towards him. The man does not retreat.

The sliver of moon above them does little to help Jack see the man, so he invites the man to sit on the porch where Jack lights a candle. The man follows him and sits down. In the flickering candle light, Jack is able to take a closer look at the man. Strapped to his back is a functional quiver and bow. There’s a large hunting strapped to his thigh, and Jack can see that on his left hand two of his fingers have been tied together.

“Broken finger?” he asks.

The man looks at his hand and nods. “Yeah. It’s kind of messing up my aim a bit.”

“I can fix that,” Jack says. “Hold on.” He goes inside to retrieve a med kit and sits down beside the man. The man willingly extends his injured hand, and Jack works on splinting the injured finger properly and binding it next to one of the other uninjured ones so that it’ll heal as straight as can be without proper medical care.

“Thanks,” the man mutters.

“Lay off on the hunting for a while,” Jack says. “You probably don’t want to put any stress on that fracture.”

The man shrugs. “Guy’s gotta eat,” he says.

“If it’s food you’re worried about, then why are leaving all your kills for us?”

The man looks out to the tree where two ducks hang quietly. “As a thank you,” he says. “The others would’ve killed me. You didn’t.”

“They wouldn’t have killed you,” Jack replies. “They just wouldn’t have helped you.”

“Same thing.”

_Fair point._

“Will you be okay then on your own?” Jack asks.

The man shrugs. “I’ll manage.”

“Where are you staying?”

“The woods and there’s a fishing cabin half way across the lake that I go to. Docks and an old boat.”

“The forest?” Jack asks, because he wonders if he’d spotted any other human presence in the woods before. It wasn’t like it was very big place to hide out in. “How long have you been there?”

“A few months. I didn’t know anyone was here until I saw you and the others.”

“Were you headed anywhere in particular?”

The man shakes his head. “Just trying to find a place to settle down.”

“Well, I’m sorry this place is a bit hostile.”

The man gives him a wry smile. “It’s no problem. I’m used to it at this point.”

They sit in silence for a while until the man finally stand up to move away.

“Where are you staying in the woods?” Jack asks.

“There’s an old hunting blind in there that I make use of.”

“Why don’t we meet somewhere in the forest? You know that _giant_ fallen tree? The one you could probably carve a house right into?”

The man nods. “Yeah. It’s fallen on a downslope, right?”

“Yeah. I’ll meet up there with you midday and we can talk about this.”

“Talk about what?”

“Don’t worry about it.”

The man sighs and then nods. “Fine. See you tomorrow then.”

“Stay safe.”

Before he leaves, the man turns to look at Jack one final time. “I’m Ryan, by the way.”

Jack smiles. “Jack.”

“Nice to meet you, Jack.”

* * *

Jack decides not to tell the others about the man, and just wordlessly accepts the ducks the next day. They plan to head out to the woods to gather supplies and check snares. They go down in one large group and from there Jack is able to quietly slip away and go to the arranged meeting place. Ryan is already there, and in the daylight Jack can take him in a bit better.

He’s tall, broad shouldered, with a grim and brooding expression to his face. He looks worn down, exhausted. He wears a scuffed leather jacket, still bearing the bow and arrows and hunting knife. His hair is cut unevenly, like he took a knife to it himself and just hacked it all off when it got too long.

Jack settles down beside him on the fallen tree. He removes his backpack and sets it down next to the man’s feet. “I’ve got some food here for you.”

Ryan opens the bag and rummages around inside of it to check out the jars of food Jack has provided. “Thanks.”

“So where is it that you stay?” Jack asks.

Ryan picks up the bag and slips off the log. “Come on,” he says with a nod of his head.

Jack follows him quietly further into the forest. It’s not a long walk until they reach the hunting blind, which is just a platform built onto a sturdy branch of a tree about fifteen feet off the ground. The ladder up is just pieces of wood nailed into the tree. Ryan invites him up, and together they sit on the platform with their legs dangling over the edge.

It’s safe, Jack guesses. It’s off the forest floor, and zombies wouldn’t be able to climb up to him. It can’t be comfortable, but it’d work in a pinch. There’s a camouflaged tarp up above to block out the rain, but it’s very bare bones. It’s not mean to be lived in.

“How do you sleep up here?” Jack asks. He notes that there isn’t any sleeping bag or blankets around.

“I don’t really.”

 _When was the last time you did sleep_? Jack thinks but does not say. He notes the redness to Ryan’s eyes.

“I wanted to come out,” Ryan says suddenly. “I wanted to come out and meet you.” He glances briefly at Jack as if he’s ashamed to admit this. “There are five of you and you make it work.”

He’s lonely, Jack realizes.

“Why didn’t you come out sooner?” Jack asks. “We would’ve welcomed you in.”

“I have a habit of bringing trouble wherever I go,” Ryan admits. “I’m not really welcomed . . . anywhere.”

“I see,” is all Jack says. “Will you be a risk if we let you in the house?”

“I hope not,” Ryan says. “I like to go out and scavenge, but that’s because I haven’t settled down long enough to become self-sufficient. So I won’t go out if you don’t want me to.”

“We’re pretty good for food and water. Winter is a bit rough, but we manage. So long as everyone does what they need to do, we keep going.”

“Sounds nice. Secure,” he adds after.

“It is. Would you like to come to the house?”

“Will any of your house mates have an issue with me?”

“Michael might. Jeremy might. But once they see you’re not a threat to them, they’ll welcome you in. They’ll be cold towards you, but they won’t kick you out.”

Ryan touches the knife on  his thigh, possibly as a reassurance that he’s armed and can protect himself. “I’ll come by tonight?”

“Sure thing.”

* * *

The others ask him where he went off to, and he says _personal business._ _Ah,_ they say. _We understand._ They don’t inquire any further, so long as he’s safe they’re fine.

They return home and continue on with various individual projects. Jack sets up to preserve the meat of their kills. Geoff is in charge of purifying water. Gavin works on that distillery idea he had. Jeremy continues with his Jenga set, and Michael. Well.

“What are you doing, Michael?” Jack asks as he picks up some empty jars that can be cleaned and used again.

“Thinking,” he says with his hands on his hips. He’s in the main bedroom, looking at the wall this room shares  with the spare room. “What do you think of a little remodelling?”

“I like it when the house stands if that’s what you’re asking.”

Michael grins. “No, I mean, like, if this wall isn’t load baring, then we could knock it out and expand the room a bit. I don’t want step on anyone when I have to go out and take a piss, you feel me?”

Jack looks at the wall and then looks at the room. A bit more space would do them well. Especially if Ryan plans on moving in with them.

“I feel you,” Jack says. “Well, keep checking out the wall and let me know when you want to do anything radical.”

“Will do.”

They’re sitting around the fire in the evening when a familiar figure approaches them. He stands a good distance away, and Jack can feel the hackles of everyone around him rising.

“What’s _he_ doing here?” Michael snarls.

“Just calm down,” Jack says as he gets to his feet and stands before them all. “This is Ryan.” He beckons Ryan to come forward, and he does, but doesn’t come _too_ close to the fire. He’s still armed, but hunches in on himself slightly to make him seem a bit smaller, less of a threat.

“Are you the one who kept leaving dead animals for us?” Jeremy asks. Ryan nods, eyes lighting up for a moment before Jeremy says, “That’s creepy as shit, dude.”

Ryan sighs and looks to Jack for help.

“Look, I know we got off to a rough start with him,” Jack says, “but he’s in need of a bit of help.”

Michael starts shaking his head immediately. “No. No way. I’m not having that fuck sleep in the house with us. He’s fucking zombie bait!”

Jack plans his hands on his hips. He looks at each of them separately to gage their reaction. Geoff looks bored, like he could care less. Gavin wary. Michael angry. And Jeremy. Jeremy looks a bit hurt, a bit betrayed that Jack would invite someone who put them in danger into their midst.

“That was bad luck on his part,” Jack says. “And I just want to remind that I took a big risk in letting you all live with me in the first place, so don’t get all high and mighty with me.” He reins in the rage and takes a moment to calm himself. “He’ll stay with us for a few days. If he harms any of us, he leaves. Does that sound fair?”

There’s some grumbling, but no opposition.

“Good. Let’s get you set up in the house then, Ryan. And we’ll figure out everything after.”

* * *

He pulls out the second cot from the cellar and sets it up in the living room. He pulls out some extra blankets and gives Ryan the grand tour of the house. “Kitchen, living room, and the bedrooms. So you know, make yourself at home.”

Ryan relieves himself of his weapons and takes off his jacket, setting it all in a pile against the wall. Wearing a simple t-shirt, Jack is able to see the pale scars on his arms,  long jagged things that Ryan looks down at when he sees Jack looking. Jack turns away with a hint of embarrassment.

“Got into a nasty fight with a roving gang,” Ryan says. “They wanted our  supplies.”

“You don’t need to explain,” Jack says. “There’s food and water in the kitchen. Take what you need. We’ll probably come in in a few hours.”

“Thanks, Jack.”

“It’s no problem.”

Ryan goes to lay down on the cot and is asleep before Jack leaves the house.

* * *

Life is a bit tense in the house now that Ryan lives with them. His presence throws off the easy dynamic they developed and honed over the many months they’ve been together. He’s quiet and brooding, living at the fringes of the household as they all try to adjust to the new living situation. Their first disastrous meeting makes them all wary of him, ignoring him when he tries to help, glaring at him whenever he enters the room. It’s not nice and it’s not welcoming, but Ryan seems to take it in stride, neither pushing himself onto them to gain acceptance or leaving for their own sense of vindication. He just remains quiet and gives Jack a helping hand whenever he asks of it, and when his fingers heal, he takes up his bow and arrow and leaves the house.

“Is he leaving?” Gavin asks.

Jack shakes his head. “Just hunting. He’ll be back.”

And he does return—a day later burdened with two wild turkeys he shot down. Jack helps him pluck them behind the house.

“I like to keep the longer feathers,” Ryan says. “Use them for arrows.”

He’s quiet and unobtrusive, but Jack can see a yearning in his eyes, a want to be closer, a want to be included and accepted instead of shunned and turned away. He leaves when they eat together. He doesn’t go out with them into the forest. He holds himself apart until the others open up to him on their terms. The only one he’ll go to is Jack.

They sit quietly together at the top of the hill before it slopes down to the water’s edge. Ryan is surrounded by materials to make some new arrows with. It’s a lot of carving, a lot of notching, a lot of intricate work. Jack continues to look at his books of medicinal plants. Home remedies are the new thing in this day and age and it’s time he jumps on the bandwagon before it’s too late. Down at the water’s edge, the others try to fish.

“So how’d this all happen?” Ryan asks, nodding his head towards the others.

“Well, I was the first here,” Jack says. “And then Geoff showed up. And then Michael and Gavin. And then Jeremy. That’s all there is to it, really.”

“And how do you find living so close quarters with them?” He glances briefly at Jack before looking back out over the water. Jack thinks he sees a slight colouring to Ryan’s cheeks—a blush.

_Oh._

_I see._

“Just say what you want,” Jack says, encouraging.

Ryan huffs. “You make it _work,_ ” he says, repeating a sentiment from earlier. “Wherever I go, wherever I end up, it ends badly. And I’ve seen you guys for months now, and you just keep going. What makes you different from everyone else?” He looks to Jack, eyes flicking over his face to get some sort of answer.

“We care about each other.”

“No, it’s _more_ than that. I know it is. I see you and the others and how you treat each other. You don’t just care about each other. You _love_ each other.”

“Does that bother you?” Jack doesn’t think Ryan is offended about the situation, but he’ll become defensive if he needs to be. What he has with the others is special, different from other relationships he’s been in in the past.

Ryan shakes his head. “No. It doesn’t. It’s just . . .” He sets down the half fletched arrow in his lap. “I feel like I’m intruding. Like I’ll put you guys in danger if I stay around any longer.”

“You’re not any trouble, Ryan.”

“How do you know? I brought a fucking horde to your friend’s house. I could’ve been bitten and killed you all later. I could’ve killed you while you slept when I gave you the meat. You don’t even know me all that well and you let me sleep in your fucking house!” His anger isn’t directed towards Jack. He’s not trying to lecture Jack. He seems to be angry at himself, frustrated at the least.

“You’re not as dangerous as you think,” Jack admonishes.

Ryan frowns and turns his body slightly away from Jack. “What do _you_ know anyway?”

“If you wanted to kill us, we’d be dead. We’ve got a good set up here. Anyone would kill for it. But you haven’t yet. In fact, you’re probably more desperate for the social aspect than you are for the potential security of the house.”

Ryan fiddles with the half made arrow. “I was in a safe zone once. Not for long and not in a very big one. But there was a breach in the boundary. Five people were killed. And since I was on patrol that night, they kicked me out. Sent me out with nothing.” He tugs forcefully on a piece of string. “I fuck things up and get people hurt. That’s my deal.”

Jack looks down to the water and watches the others fish. They’re far from perfect. Geoff is somewhat impatient at times with teaching them. Michael gets bored easily. Gavin jerks at everything that moves. And Jeremy keeps slipping in the water. None of them are perfect here, but they make it work regardless. They have their fights and their differences. They storm off and return later with a cooler head. It’s never going to be easy, but it’s good.

“Gavin has no sense of danger about him,” Jack says. “He’s too curious for his own good and would eat something he shouldn’t if we didn’t tell him it was poisonous. Michael gets trigger itchy whenever someone threatens one of us. Jeremy can get really quiet sometimes, and he’ll just be _gone_ for a time and you have to keep watch over him. Geoff is nearly terrified of everything. And I’m too nice for my own good. I take in people without thinking about it twice. What I’m trying to say is that we’re all not good people. But together we make up for it.”

He takes a chance and puts his hand on Ryan’s shoulder. Ryan leans into the touch, and for a moment, everything is fine.

* * *

It takes a while for the others to accept Ryan. Clearly, there is reservation on both sides of the issue, but it’s Gavin who breaks the ice first.

Usually every day, Ryan sets up a makeshift archery target for himself behind the house. He bundles up some dried grasses and ties it together before setting it up on a stump. He sets himself up and lets loose of the arrows methodically, perfecting the craft that his kept him alive this long. It seems therapeutic for him as well, getting into a state of mind that just lets him forget about everything else. Gavin first approaches him because he’s interested in what Ryan’s doing, watching his sure and precise movements.

Jack watches it all from the smokehouse, how Gavin shyly approaches Ryan. Ryan lowers the bow and they talk quietly. He hands Gavin the bow. Gavin inspects it, and they talk a bit. The next thing that happens is Ryan offers Gavin an arrows. He stands behind Gavin, carefully putting his hands on Gavin to sure up his form and help him loose the arrows to the target. This goes on for a while until Gavin gets the hang of it and Ryan stands off to the side to let Gavin practice on his own.

Jack goes back into the smokehouse, smiling. Finally. Progress.

* * *

As summer reaches its peak in all its sticky, humid glory, Michael decides that he’s finally going to break down the wall between the two bedrooms. He takes a sledge hammer to the plaster and sets to work on it one early morning. They’ve moved out all the bedding and furniture and opened the windows to clear out the dust. It’s mostly Michael’s job, but when Ryan offers his hand, Michael accepts it.

“Save the nails from the studs if you can,” Jack asks.

“Will do, Jack,” Michael replies.

He stays outside with the others while the two of them go to work destroying the house.

“You know,” Gavin says. “I rather like Ryan. He’s a nice guy. In the quiet brooding way. But still nice.”

“I mean, if you’re into the tall, dark and handsome look,” Jeremy says.

Geoff laughs sharply. “Tall, dark, and handsome!” he howls. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re in love.” He slaps his hands down on Jeremy’s shoulders and gives him a friendly shake.

“I can’t be the only one,” Jeremy says in defense of himself. “He fits the archetype! I’m just saying!”

They laugh it off until Gavin agrees with him. “I see where you’re going with this,” he says. “I see you, Jeremy.”

“Thank you. See?” he says to Geoff. “It’s not just me!”

“I got you. But yeah. He’s a nice enough guy. Very obliging. Good with a bow and arrow. _Amazing_ hunter.”

“Yeah, I doubt we’ll have to panic when winter rolls around,” Jack says. “I think he’s a nice addition to the house. We needed someone with some refined skills.”

Geoff rubs up against Jack and gives him an approving nod, as if to say, “You did good, kid. You did good.”

* * *

When the demolition project is finished a few days later, they rearrange the beds to have a clear path to the door to get out. Ryan remains on his cot in the living room, not feeling as if he’s welcomed into the fold as of yet. Jack lets him moves at his own pace until he feels like he can stay here and that nothing will go wrong.

It takes time. It’s always going to take time. They each have their stories, their horrors they cannot speak of—the thing that made them leave the town they lived in. They carry their secrets and their regrets, but at the end of the day, they have each other and that’s all that matters.

* * *

One hot and sticky night, they’re all lying in bed. They windows are open. Some are without shirts to cool off in the humidity. Once in a while a breeze will come through the open window to cool them off just a bit. Jack thinks it’ll rain soon. The air has that feeling to it, something heavy and ready to burst in raining fury.

A candle flickers on the night stand. The three lads are sharing one bed together, all pressed and tangled up against one another. Jack doesn’t know how they can stand it like that. But then again, Gavin usually always runs cold, which is probably why he’s pressed in the middle. Geoff and Jack are on the same bed like old times when it was just the two of them before they started adopting everyone they came across. Geoff is rolled over on one side of the bed, lips parted, one arm hanging over the edge. He’ll shift later in the night and come back to Jack as he always does.

Sam is splayed out over the end of the bed, twitching in his sleep. Jack makes some final notes in the book he’s working through, wondering if this time he’ll get the garden right. One of these days, he’s going to get that garden going and it will bloom beautifully.

There’s a gentle knock on the open door to encourage ventilation. Jack looks up and sees Ryan there. Jack sets down his book and moves over closer to Geoff and pats the open space next to him. Ryan quietly enters and settles himself on the bed. He blows out the candle and they settled themselves down next to each other.

Once his eyes adjust Jack is able to see Ryan. He raises a hand to his head and drags his fingers through Ryan’s hair. Ryan closes his eyes and tilts into the touch as he always does. He reaches up to grasp Jack’s wrist. He pulls his hand away and twines their fingers together. Jack squeezes his hand. Ryan returns it.

In this messy filled world, life was never going to be simple, not from the very start. But together, Jack thinks, together they can make something out of it and make it their own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As gifts to you all for making it this far, I've decided to gift you all the chance to read the semi-backstories of some of the characters here!
> 
> [Michael and Gavin](https://staranon95.tumblr.com/post/160134152898/more-survival-of-the-fittest-thoughts)   
>  [Jeremy](https://staranon95.tumblr.com/post/159921343143/star-my-darling-i-think-youre-going-to-find)   
>  [Ryan](https://staranon95.tumblr.com/post/159850631953/you-think-we-could-ever-get-a-little-peek-at-how)
> 
> Seeing as we already know the stories of Jack and Geoff, I figured you might want to know what brought the others down to Jack's little house.
> 
> As for what my plans are next, I am planning a larger work at the moment, so we'll see how that goes. I also have a really rough Ryan and Trevor are half brothers story going on. A simple two parter that's more character sketch than anything, but maybe I'll clean it up and post it.
> 
> Until next time, you know where to find me. Cheers!

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me at [tumblr](http://staranon95.tumblr.com/).


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